iLlBPtARY OF CONGRESS, 



J7/^. 






UNITED STATES' OF AMERICA, f 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE. 

After the publisJiers had sold tJie first edi- 
tion of this icorli,, they learned that one of 
a series g*" prose noJumcs entitled Words of 
Cheer, originally puUishcd several years 
ago, is still in the market. While the hooks 
of that se7^les are of an entirely different 
character, the similarity of the title, and the 
courtesies of the trade, render a change in the 
present instance essential, and this exj)la7ia- 
tion is necessary to those taJio have already 
purchased the hook under the title of Words 
OF Cheer. 



CHEERING WORDS 



MASTER'S WORKERS. 



'THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ONLY STAND AND WAIT. 






N E W Y O R K : 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY 

770 BROADWAY, 
CoK. 9th Street. 



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Entered acc()rding to Act of Congress, in the year 1S72, by 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & CO. 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D, C. 



E. 0. JENKINS, ROBERT RUTTER 

TERANDSTERE0TYPE1-, BINDER, 

■XI N. WILLIAM ST., N. Y. i4 beekman STREti, N. r. 



Cheerixq Words arc sometimes needed by 
the ''The Masters Workers," whether they be 
active, or enduring, Christians. Many a trust- 
ing child is cast down, because tlie httle love- 
service which may be required seems too small 
to be counted for aught in the great harvest- 
field; forgetting that the dear Lord asks of His 
children only so much as He gives them ability 
to perform. Others may have made their peace 
with God, through the merits of His dear Son, 
and re:3t content, instead of going into the 
"Highways and Hedges," with prayerful wrest- 
ling, and earnest pleading, endeavoring to draw 
the wandering ones to the Master s feet. Others 
again may long to be workers in the A'ineyard, 
but no ffveat service presents itself, and they 
do not realise that precious souls are all around 
them, even, it may be, in their own households, 
who are yearning for a word of encouragement, 
or even a loving look, to help them on their 
way. Many a patient sufferer fears, lest, lying 
with folded hands, because the Lord wills it, 
they arc doing nothing for Him; while, all un- 



Vi IXTRODUCTORI. 

consciously to themselves, the Refiner's fire is 
bringing out pure gold. 

This little volume is designed to present, in 
the words of others, . something which may 
stimulate and encourage such as these; and 
it is sent forth with a prayerful desire that each 
reader may gather some grains from the sheaf 
which is here bound, and lovingly inscribed to 
My two Sisters. 

A. c. T. 



THE MASTER'S WORKMEN. 

" For God is not unrighteous, to forget your work and labor 
of love, whicli ye liave showed towai'd His name, in that ye have 
ministered to the saints, and do minister/'— Heb. vi. 10. 

I PASSED by a shapeless marble, 
And I wondered what beauty could be, 

If the thought of an artist but touched it, 
From the prisoning stone set free. 

A Master, with spirit God-gifted, 

Saw an angel imprisoned there, 
And he shaped in the clay, a promise 

Of beauty, exceeding fair. 

The sculptor's fingers ne'er lifted 

The hammer and chisel so keen. 
But he called his workmen together 

The deftest that ever were seen. 

Ke showed them the shapeless marble. 

And the model, wrought in clay, 
And left them to carve the angel 

Fro7n the thought which before them lay. 

(1) 



2 THE master's WORKaiEN. 

From its prison, so rough and unsightly, 

It sprang in such perfect wise, 
That the people their eyes veiled in wonder, 

As from glimpses of Paradise. 

And they all praised the Artist, whose power 
Had thus carved a thought in the stone ; 

But the workmen were wholly forgotten ; 
The bays crowned the Master, alone. 

As I pondered on marble, and statue, 

This lesson was borne to me 
Of high and holy import. 

Which may never forgotten be. 

Have toe not a wonderful Master, 
Whose thoughts are grand and deep? 

In each soul, a possible angel 
He sees, though it lies asleej). 

Though the outward be rough and uncomely 

Yet the beauty lies within ; 
And the Master calls on His children 

To help break the fetters of sin. 

We may aid the imprisoned angel 
To escape in such wonderful guise ; 

We may see the white pinions float upward 
Through the gates of Paradise. 

All the angels are thoughts of the Master, 
But we may help chisel the stone. 

Set free, in earth-souls, the veiled beauty. 
And hear His dear plaudit "Well done!" 



"SON, GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD."' 

And His workmen are never forgotten — 

He sees their labor and love ; 
For each stroke of the chisel, a star-beam 

Is waiting for them above. 

ANNA MONTAGUE. 



SON, GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD." 

" Whatsoever ke eaith unto you, do it."— John ii. 5. 

Go work in my vineyard, 

I claim thee for mine, 
I bought thee with blood — 

Thou, and all that is thine — 
Thy time, and thy talents, 

Thy loftiest powers. 
Thy warmest affections. 

Thy sunniest hours. 
I willingly yielded 

My kingdom for thee, 
Left the songs of archangels 

To hang on the tree ; 
In pain, and temptation, 

In anguish, and shame 
I paid thy full price, 

And my i)urchase I claim. 

Go work in my vineyard. 

There's plenty to do. 
The harvest is great, 

But the laborers are few : 
There is plowing, and sowing, 

And gathering the fruits ; 
There is weeding, and fencing, 

And clearing of roots ; 



THIS LIFE IS XOT ALL SADNESv.. 

There are foxes to take, 

And wolves to destroy,™ 
All ages and ranks 

I can fully employ. 
There are sheep to be tended, 

And lambs to be fed ; 
The lost must be gathered, 

The Aveary ones led. 

Go work in my vineyard, 

Oh, work while 'tis day, 
For the bright hours of sunshine 

Are hastening aAvay, 
And night's gloomy clouds 

Are gathering fast, 
Then the laboring time 

Will forever be past. 
Blessed, thrice blessed, 

Are the diligent few 
Who finish the work 

That is given them to do. 



THIS LIFE IS NOT ALL SADNESS. 

"Ihey cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered 
them out of their distresses."— Psalm cvii. 6. 

This life is not all sadness ; 

Its days arc not all gloom ; 
There are many hours of gladness 

'Twixt the cradle and the tomb. 

Th(5ro hi no wave that rolleth 
On the bosom of the lake, 



FORWARD. 

But hath some white foam near it, 
When it may chance to break. 

If we, in our life-sorrows, 
But hft our eyes to God, 

He will mingle countless blessings 
With the chastening of His rod. 



FORWARD. 

"See then that ye walk circumspectly .... redeeming the 
time."— Eph. v. 16, IT. 

Shall this life of mine be wasted? 

Shall this vineyard be untilled? 
Shall true joy pass by untasted. 

And this soul remain unfilled ? 

Shall this heart still spend its treasures 
On the things that fade and die ? 

Shall it count the hollow pleasures 
Of bewildering vanity? 

Shall these lips of mine be idle? 

Shall I open them in vain? 
Shall I not, with God's own bridle 

Their frivolities restrain? 

Shall these eyes of mine still wander 

Or, no longer turned afar, 
Fix a firmer gaze, and fonder. 

On the bright and morning star? 



OUR BURDEN -BEAKER. 

Shall these feet of mine, delaying, 

Still in ways of sin be found 
Braving snares, and madly straying 

On the world's bewitching ground? 

No ! 1 was not born to trifle 

Life away in dreams of sin ; 
No ! I was not born to stifle 

Longings such as these within. 

Where the cross, God's love revealing. 

Sets the fettered spirit free. 
Where it sheds its wondrous healing. 

There, my soul, thy rest shall be. 

AVhen, no longer idly dreaming. 

Shall I fling my years away. 
But, each precious hour redeeming. 

Wait for the eternal day. 

HORATIUS BONAR. 



OUR BURDEN-BEARER. 

''Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. 
-Psalm Iv. 22. 

Let us not go stooping, groaning 
Underneath our load of care ; 

There's a better way to journey, 
There's a lighter load to bear. 

We are pilgrims, traveling homeward, 

Only pilgrims on our way ; 
Surely we Avould make our going 

Just as lightsome as wc may. 



OUR BURDEIST- BEAKER. 

There are many, many crosses 

To be lifted as we go; 
We must climb the rugged mountains, 

And the darksome x^alleys know. 

Rocky steeps and fragrant meadowr 
Will be mingled in our way; 

Sunny skies oft arch above us, 
Darkness often hides the day. 

But let all of us remember — 
All who thus as pilgrim.s go, 

There's an easier way to journey 
Than we all have come to know. 

There's an easier way of going, 
There's a lighter load to bear 

Than the grievous, grievous burden 
That so many of us "w^ear. 

There's a voice forever sounding 
In that weary pilgrim's ear, 

Voice of tenderest compassion, 
Framing sweetest words of cheer. 

■ Cast on Me your heavy burdens. 
Cast on Me your load of care; 
I invite you — I entreat you ; 
All your burdens I will bear. 

Give Me not a j:>Gr/ to carry. 

And go mourning with the rest; 

J II your cares now cast upon me: 
I will bear them on my breast. 



' USE ME. 

Give no thought, no anxious looking 

To the coming morrow's sky ; 
If the morning dawneth for thee, 

I shall still be standing nigh." 

Gracious words of strength and sweetness ! 

Oh, be mine their truth to know; 
Mine to trust, in fullest measure, 

Resting even as I go ! 

Thus sweet comforts will be springing 
In our hearts, from day to day ; 

Light and sweet the precious burden 
Jesus gives us on our way. 

Let us never, then, be groaning 

Underneath our load of care ; 
There's a better way to journey, 

There's a lighter load to bear. 



USE ME. 

" Give ear to my prayer, O God I and hide not Thyself from my 
Bupplicatioa."— PsALii Iv. i. 

Make use of me, my God ! 
Let me not be forgot, 

A broken vessel cast aside- 
One whom thou needest not. 

I am thy creature, I.iord, 
And made by hands divine ; 

And I am part, however mean, 
Of this great world of thine. 



USE ME. J 

Thou usest all Thy works,— 
The weakest things that be ; 

Each has a service of his own, 
For all things wait on Thee. 

Thou usest the high stars, 

The tiny drops of dev^r, 
The giant peak, and little hill; 

My God! oh, use me, too! 

Thou usest tree and flower. 

The rivers, vast and small, 
The eagle great, the little bird 

That sings upon the w^all. 

Thou usest the wide sea, 

The little hidden lake. 
The pine, upon the Alpine cliff, 

The lily in the brake. 

The huge rock in the vale, 

The sand-grain by the sea. 
The thunder of the rolling cloud, 

The murmur of the lea. 

All things do serve Thee here,— 
All creatures, great and small : 

Make use of me, my God, 
The w^eakest of them alii 

EORATIUS BONAR. 



10 PER PACEM AD LUCEM. 

BROAD CAST THY SEED. 

' Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters."— Isaiah xxsii. 

Broad cast thy seed ! 

Although some portion may be found 

To fall on uncongenial ground, 

Where sand or shade, or stone may stay 

Its coming into light or day ; 

Or when it comes, some pestilent air 

May make it droop and wither there ; 

Be not discouraged : some will find 

Congenial soil and gentle wind — 

Refreshing dew and ripening shower 

To bring it into beauteous flower. 

From flower to fruit to glad thine eyes, 

And fill thy soul with sweet surprise. 

Do good, and God will bless thy deed, 

Broad cast thy seed ! 



PER PACEM AD LUCEM. 

"O send oat thy light and thy truth: let them lead me."— 
Psalm xliii. 3. 

I DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be 

A pleasant road ; 
I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me 

Aught of its load ; 
I do not ask that flowers should always spring 

Beneath my feet; 
I know too well the poison and the sting 

Of things too sweet. 



BEAR YE ONE AlfOTHER'S BURDEN^S. ll 

For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead, 

Lead me aright — 
Though strength should falter, and tho' heart 
should bleed — 

Through Peace to Light. 
I do not ask, O Lord, that Thou shouldst ched 

Full radiance here ; 
Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread 

Without a fear. 
I do not ask my cross to understand, 

My way to see ; 
Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand 

And follow Thee. 
Joy is like restless day ; but peace divine 

Like quiet night ; 
Lead me, O Lord— till perfect Day shall shine, 

Through Peace to Light. 

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. 



BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS. 

" And so fulfill the law of Christ."— Gal. vi. 2. 
'• PiLURiM, wait a little moment. 

Till I struggle to your side. 
Lend your hand to help me, brother, 

For the love of Him who died ! 
You seem strong and full of courage, 

Kindly share with me your strength, 
I have come a weary journey, 

Now I hope for help at length. 
Do not hasten on so swiftly, 

Do not leave me on the road. 
Lest I faint beneath my burdens. 

Crushed by sorrow's heavy load." 



12 god's ai^vil. 

" Fainting soul, I hear thee calUng, 

Jesus bids me turn to thee, 
But I cannot make thee stronger, 

For there is no strength in me. 
Do you think my burden hghter? 

(Heart of mine, God counts thy tears !) 
But, my brother, though we suffer, 

We will roll on Christ our fears. 
Why should anxious thoughts distress thee. 

Press thy foot upon the thorn, 
Let us keep our eye on Jesus, 

Till the hill-tops greet the dawn!" 

a. w. H 



GOD'S ANVIL. 

" ThoiT^ti He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."— Job xiii. 15, 

Pain's furnace-heat within me quivers, 
God's breath upon the fire doth blow, 

And all my heart in anguish shivers. 
And trembles in the fiery glow ; 

And yet I whisper, "As God will!" 

And in His hottest fire hold still. 

He comes, and lays my heart, all heated, 

On the bare anvil, minded so 
Into His own fair shape to beat it. 

With His great hammer, blow on blow ; 
And yet I whisper, "As God will!" 
And in His heaviest blows hold still. 

He takes my softened heart and beats it ; 
The sparks fly off at every blow : 



XOTIIIXGr TO DO? 13 

He turns it o'er and o'er and heats it, 
And lets it cool, and makes it glow : 
And yet I whisper, "As God Avill!" 
And in His mighty hand hold still. 

Why should I murmur? for the sorrow 
Thus only longer-lived would be ; 

Its end may come, and will to-morrow. 
When God has done His work in me : 

So I say trusting, "As God will!" 

And, trusting to the end, hold still. 

He kindles, for my profit purely. 
Affliction's glowing, fiery brand ; 

And all His heaviest blows are surely 
Inflicted by a master-hand ; 

So I say, praying, "As God will!" 

And hope in Him, and suffer still. 

JULIUS STURM. 

NOTHING TO DO? 

" Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them ; and 
them which suffer adversit3% as being yourselves also in the 
body."— Heb. siii. 3. 

'' NoTHi^a to do?" Oh, pause, and look around 
At those oppressed with want and sorrow, too ! 
Look at the wrongs, the sufferings that abound. 
Ere yet thou saycst there's naught for thee to do. 

' ' Nothing to do ?" Arc there no hearcs that ache. 
No care-worn breasts that heave an anguished 

sigh, 
No burdens that thy hands might lighter make. 
No bitter tears thy sympathy might dry? 



14: IHE RIGHT WAY. 

Are there no hungry that thy hand may feed? 

No sick to aid, no naked to be clad? 

Are there no bUnd, whose footsteps thou mayst 

lead? 
No mourning heart that thou couldst make les.? 

sad? 

"Nothing to do?" Hast thou no store of gold, 
No wealth of time, that thou shouldst Avell em- 
ploy? 
No hidden talent that thou shouldst unfold ? 
No gift that thou shouldst use for other's joy? 

" Nothing to do?" Ah, look without, within, 
Be to thyself and to thy duties true ; 
Look on the world, its troubles, and its sin, 
And own that thou hast much indeed to do. 



THE RIGHT WAY. 



"And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This ig 
the way, walk ye in it.'' — Isaiah xxx. 21. 



Lord, is it still the right way, though I cannot 

see Thy face, 
Though I do not feel thy presence, and Thine 

all-sustaining grace? 
Can even this be leading through the bleak 

and sunless wild 
To the City of Thy holy rest, the mansions un- 

defiled? 



THE RIGHT WAY. 15 

Lord, is it still the right way? Awhile ago I 
passed 

Where every stop seemed thornier and harder 
than the last ; 

Where bitterest disappointment and inly ach- 
ing sorrow 

Carved day by day a weary cross, renewed with 
every morrow. 

The heaviest end of that strange cross I knew 

was laid on Thee, 
So I could still press on secure of Thy deep 

sympathy; 
Our upward path may well be steep, or how 

were patience tried? 
I knew it was the right way, for it led me to 

Thy side. 

But now I wait alone amid dim shadows dank 

and chill ; 
All moves and changes round me, but I seem 

standing still ; 
Or every feeble footstep I urge towards the light, 
Seems but to lead me farther into the silent 

night. 

I cannot hear Thy voice, Lord ! Dost Thou still 
hear my cry? 

I cling to Thine assurance that Thou art ever 
nigh ; 

I liJioio that Tliou art faitliful; I tnist hut can- 
not see 

That it is still the right way by which Thou 
leadest me. 



16 THE RIGHT WAY. 

I think I could go forward with brave and joy- 
ful heart, 

Though every step should pierce me with un- 
known fiery smart, 

If only I might see Thee, if I might gaze above 

On all the cloudless glory of the sunshine of 
Thy love. 

Is it really leading onv/ards? When shadows 
flee away. 

Shall I find this path hath brought me more 
near to perfect day? 

Or am I left to wander thus, that I may stretch 
my hand 

To some still wearier traveler in this same sha- 
dow land ? 

Is this Thy chosen training for some future 

task unknown? 
Is it that I may learn to rest upon Thy word 

alone ? 
Whatever it be, oh, leave me not! fulfill Thou 

every hour 
The purpose of Thy goodness, and the work of 

faith with power. 

I lay my prayer before Thee ! and, trusting in 

Thy word. 
Though all is silence in my heart, I know that 

Thou hast heard. 
To that blest City lead me. Lord (still choosing 

all my way), 
Where faith melts into vision as the starlight 

into day. 

FKAXCIS HIDLEY IIAYERG^VIi. 



WHAT IS CHARITY? 17 

WHAT IS CHARITY? 

*' If ye fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, Thou 
Bhalt love thy neighbor as thyself, ye do well/''— James ii. 8. 

It is not the gift ostentation bestows, 

ISTor the tear that from sentiment languidly 

flo\vs, 
Nor the cushion that's spread for a purple-robed 

guest, 
Nor the bidding the wealthy and proud to a 

feast : 

But ask of the Gospel, — its pages have said, 
It is love to the creatures your Maker has made : 
And if in the heart the good tree taketh root. 
It will shed o'er the life its most beautiful fruit. 

'Tis the "little address" in the wiping a tear; 
'Tis the whisper of hope in the desolate ear; 
'Tis the smile of encouragement, given to one 
Whom malign degradation had marked for her 
own ; 

'Tis the answer that turns away anger and 

wrath ; 
'Tis the hand that strews roses in misery's path ; 
'Tis the foot that treads softly the chamber of 

pain; 
'Tis the gift that the giver expects not again ; 

'Tis the word that is said in an absent one's 

X) raise, 
Or to save from dishonor, distrust or disgrace; 

2 



18 LEAVES ONLY. 

'Tis the thought that would wound never ut- 
tered in jest; 
The apology urged : the fault frankly confessed. 

'Tis the hiding what others would not wish re- 
vealed ; 
'Tis a friend's secret error forever concealed : 
And, in every transaction that's open to view, 
'Tis to act as you'd wish others acted by you. 



LEAVES ONLY. 

"And when He saw a fig-tree iu the way, He came to it aud 
found nothing thereon, but leaves onl}% aud caid unto it. Let no 
fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever. And presently thi- fig- 
tree withered away,"— Matt. sxi. 19. 

The Master will look at His trees to-day 

As He walks by the white road side, 
While the music of pleasure is in the air 

Of the brilliant summer-tide ; 
And, as upward He raises those tender eyes, 

With solicitous love made sad. 
What shall be seen on the strong young trees 

To render the Master glad? 

He planted them all in their sunny homes 

With loving and skillful care, 
And round about them He caused to breathe 

The warmth of the scented air ; 
Sunshine and shade have been freely given. 

And dews, and gentle rains, 
And what have the trees to show to-day 

For the Master's loving pains? 



LEAVES OXLY. 19 

Tender green of the dancing leaves, 

And strength of branch and limb, 
A home for many a singing bird, 

And a gentle shade for Him? 
Biit the Master is looking for fruit to-day 

Hidden by shining leaves, 
For the harvest joy is upon the earth. 

And- the fields of golden sheaves. 

Alas ! for the trees that are straight and tall, 

x\nd covered with leaves of green, 
Lifting their faces evermore 

To be kissed by the silver sheen. 
But who only live to be beautiful. 

And have nothing but leaves to-day 
For the lips that are parched in the summer's 
heat. 

For the weary who pass that way. 

Alas ! for the trees that have only leaves 

For the Master's piercing gaze, 
Who have lived, and flourished, and bloomed in 

After these many days ! [vain 

What if the Master should say to them, 

' ' Never shall fruit be seen 
On the trees that cumber the useful ground. 

And have nothing to show but green?" 

Patient Master, be patient still. 

Smite not the trees to-day 
With the blighting word or a stern rebuke, 

Bringing the swift decay. 
Let them linger a season yet, 

If perchance there soon may be 



20 DORCAS: "A DISCIPLE." 

Not lea ves alone for Thy searching glance, 
But ripened fruit for Thee. 

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM. 



DORCAS: "A DISCIPLE." 

''I commend unto you, Phebe, our sister; .... That ye re- 
ceive lier in the Lord, as bocometh saints, and that ye assist her 
in whatsoever business she hath need of you ; for she hath been 
^ succour of many, and of myself also."— Rom. xvi. 1, 2. 

When ministering Avomen went 

AVith Christ through Galilee, 
On Him their eager service spent. 

Their substance lavished free, 
We know not if thou wert with these, 

Discipleship to claim ; 
Enough, we know thy ministries 

Did win for thee the name. 

"Woman I" "Disciple!" for good deeds 

Wrought by thy loving hands. 
That ministered to lowly needs, 

Thy name on record stands 
Embalmed in fragrant love and tears. 

And everlasting praise. 
That down to our far distant years 

Doth fresh memorials raise, 

"Woman!" "Disciple!" still the same, 
Christ claims your minist'ring ; 

Still tender, fearless, over shame 
Your love's fair garment fling; 



CHERISH KIXDLY FEELINGS. 21 

Still let your heli)ful hands be swift 

To bless and beautify; 
The lowest services doth lift 

Up to His throne on high. 



CHERISH KINDLY FEELINGS. 



" Be kindly affectioned one to another, with hrotherly love. 
Rom. xii. 10, 



Cherish kindly feelings, children; 

Nurse them in your heart ; 
Don't forget to take them with you, 

When from home you start ; 
In the school-room, in the parlor, 

At your work or play, 
Kindly thoughts and kindly feelings, 

Cherish every day. 

Cherish kindly feelings, children, 

Toward the old and poor, 
For you know they've many blighting 

Hardships to endure ; 
Try to make their burden lighter, 

Help them in their need. 
By some sweet and kindly feeling, 

Or some generous deed. 

Cherish kindly feelings, children, 

While on earth you stay, 
They will scatter light and sunshine 

All along your way; 



23 ^' WHAT WILT THOU HATE ME DO.' 

Make the j^atli of duty brighter, 

Make your trials less. 
And whate'er your lot or station, 

Bring you happiness. 



M. A. KIDDER. 



"WHAT WILT THOU HAVE ME BOr 

''Acquaint now thyself with God, and he at peace: therehy 
good shall come unto thee. Receive, I pray thee, the law from 
bis mouth, and lay up his words in thine heart."— Job xxii. 21, 22. 

"Dear Lord, behold I humbly wait, 
And seek Thy presence still; 
Oh, deign to hear my earnest prayer 
And make me know Thy will. 

"What wilt Thou have me. Lord, to do? 
What offering shall I bring? 
What service here for Thee perform, 
My God, my Heavenly King?" 

Thus, long I prayed, until at last 
The wished-for answer came ; 
And in a dream, a gentle voice 
Seemed calling me by name. 

I rose, obedient to the call, 
When, lo ! in mortal guise. 
My Saviour seemed to stand revealed 
Unto my wondering eyes. 

And then, methought He spoke to me 
In accents low and sweet. 
While filled with love and joy I fell 
Adoring at His feet. 



"what wilt thou have me do." 23 

'* My child, behold, thy prayer is heard, 
'Tis this that thou must do ; 
Determined, run the heavenly race; 
My grace shall bear thee through. 

'' No splendid service do I ask, 
No deeds of might, or fame, 
No testimony sealed with blood, 
No tortures, stripes, or shame. 

^ ' I only ask a yielded heart, 
The martyrdom of sin ; 
The constant struggle to subdue 
All that is wrong witliin. 

' ' Sin is the deadly, hateful thing 
That nailed me to the tree ; 
A. hatred of its every guise 
I ask, my child, of thee. 

'* Thy work no other hands may do, 
Marked out alone for thee ; 
If thou shalt do this faithfully 
Thou doest it unto Me." 

I woke, but never may forget 
The truth Avhich I had learned. 
That many deeds Avhich from the world 
The meed of praise have earned, 

Are not the deeds that please the Lord; 
He looketh at the heart. 
And grants His smile alone to those 
Who choose the "better x)art." 



24 "THE LORD WILL PROVIJ/E. 

E'en in the common tasks of lite, 
He may be glorified 
If all is done with love for Him, 
For Him, the "Crucified." 



"THE LORD V/ILL PROVIDE." 

"Artel Abraham called the name of tlio placie Jebovali jireli."— 
Genesis xsii. 14. 

In some way or other the Lord will provide : 
It may not be my way, 
It may not be thy way ; 
And yet in His own way 
" The Lord will provide." 

At some tune or other the Lord mil provide : 
It may not be my time, 
It may not be thy time ; 
And yet in His own time 
" The Lord will provide." 

Despond, then, no longer, the Lord will provide: 
And this be the token — 
No word He hath spoken 
"Was ever yet broken — 
"The Lord will provide." 

March on, then, right boldly, the sea shall divide: 
Thy pathway made glorious, 
With shoutings victorious^ 
We'll join in the chorus, 
"The Lord will provide." 

M. A. w. C. 



COULD WE BUT KNOW. 



COULD WE BUT KNOW. 

" Having compassion one of another ; love as bretliren. be piti- 
ful, bii courteous."— 1 Peter iii. 8. 

Could we but see wliat liidden lies 

Beneath the outward form; 
Could we but hear the deep felt sighs 

Which from the heart are drawn ; 

Or did we see what sorrows hang, 

Like a dark curtain round 
The heart, that late so sweetly sang, 

With such a cheerful sound ; 

Or knew we what the motives are 

Which govern every deed; 
Or the various things which mar 

The winding path ^ve lead ; 

Or did ^ve know the secret wish 

The effort to do right, 
And the temptation they resist, 

Unknown to other sight ; 

Knew we the ivliole of every mind, 

And all that dwells within, 
Oh, could we ever be unkind, 

Or cause a soul to sin? 

But would we not more earnest be 

To cheer the lonely one, 
And ever strive to do and speak 

That which would trouble none? 



26 0]S"E STEP MORE. 

ONE STEP MORE. 

"The just shall live by his faith."— Habakkuk ii. 4. 

What though before me it is dark, 

Too dark for one to see? 
I ask but Ught for one step more ; 

'Tis quite enough for me. 

Each httle humble step I take, 
The gloom clears from the next ; 

So, though 'tis very dark beyond, 
I never am perplexed. 

And if sometimes the mist hangs close,— 

So close, I fear to stray, — 
Patient I wait a little while, 

And soon it clears away. 

I would not see my further path, 

For mercy veils it so ; 
My present steps might harder be 

Did I the future know. 

It may be that my path is rough, 

Thorny and hard and steep ; 
And knowing this, my strength might fail, 

Through fear and terror deep. 

It may be that it winds along 

A smooth and flowery way ; 
But, seeing this, I might despiso.j 

The journey of to-day. 



TWO PAINTIXGS. 27 

Perhaps my path is very short, 

My journey nearly done, 
And I might tremble at the thought 

Of ending it so soon. 

Or, if I saw a weary length 

Of road that I must wend, 
Fainting, I'd think, "My feeble powers 

Will fail me ere the end." 

And so I do not wish to see 

My journey, or its length; 
Assured that, through my Father's love, 

Each step will bring its strength. 

Thus step by step I onward go, 

Not looking far before ; 
Trusting that I shall always have 

Light for just "one step more." 



TWO PAINTINGS. 

"CHRIST REJECTED." CHRIST RECEIVED. 

"And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, 
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from hencefcrth; 
Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rei?t from their lahors ; and 
their works do follow them."— Rsv. xiv. 13. 

I GAZED upon the canvass wrought 

With wondrous care and skill, 
The impress of a mighty thought, 

Stamped at the artist's will. 



28 TWO PAINTIXGS. 

Calm, pure, but liunian was the face, 

With patience in each line. 
Yet in that form of gentlest grace 

I saw not Christ Divine. 

I turned to where a Christian trod 

Each day in lowly guise, 
Walking as heaven-bound Pilgrims should, 

No home beneath the skies. 

I saw her paint with patient love. 

So slowly, day by day, 
A picture which through endless years 

Shall never fade away. 

Her canvass, even human hearts, 

The Master did prepare, 
And placed in her uplifted hands 

The pencil — fervent prayer. 

For weary-hearted — this design 

The Master said was best, 
One who with loving, out-stretched arms, 

Said, ^^Come to Me and rest.'''' 

And sin-sick souls the healing touch 

Of love could understand. 
As this good servant bade them note 

The Great Physician's hand. 

And children, leaving all their games 

Her well-known face to see. 
Returned, deep graven on their hearts 

The sweet ^^Come unto 3/e." 



"go work to-day.' 29 

The wanderer learned redeeming love, 

His erring path beside, 
In pleading words and thorn-crowned brow 

Of Jesus crucified. 

And by the lonely mourner's hearth 

She left, with bended knee, 
A picture of the living Christ, 

AVho wept at Bethany. 

These paintings side by side shall share 

God's scrutinizing eye ; 
He noted every touch with care, 

From the great throne on high. 

When they have laid life's burdens down, 

And entered into rest. 
Which, think ye, will the Master own 

Hath painted Christ the best? 

ANNA B. TROTH. 



"GO WORK TO-DAY." 

'• Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, 
always abonndiRg in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye 
know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord."—! Cob. sv. 58. 

There is work for all in the Gospel Field, 

And, if the mind be willing, 
The j)lace for labor will stand revealed. 
And the fruitage rich and the harvest yield 

Will surelv crown the tilling. 



30 WORiaxa W0?.IAX'S MORXIXa TII0U«3tHTS. 

The seed is the truth of the Uving Lord, 

Each grain well worth the sowing; 
Seed given to scatter and not to hoard, 
To be sown in faith, for Jehovah's word 
Ensures, by pledge, its growing. 

The field is near us, the seed at hand, 
And time its course is winging — 

Go forth to labor, no longer stand ; 

The reapers' triumph will yet be grand, 
Each one his full sheaves bringing : — 

A glorious harvest of sinners won — 

A harvest worth securing — 
Rest for the toilers, their life-work done — 
Crowns for the victors, and near the throne, 

Peace, joy, and life enduring. 

MARSHALL B. SMITH. 



A WORKING WOMAN'S MORNING 
THOUGHTS. 

" They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength : 
they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run and 
not be weary ; and they shall walk and not faint."— Is. xl. 31. 

I GO among unloving hearts ; 

But go Thou with me there, 
And let me breathe Thy love all day. 

Just as I breathe the air. 

Let this day's hard and thankless task, 

Be temple-work for Thee, 
And every meal a eucharist, 

And feast of love to me. 



WORKING WOMA^-'S MORNING THOUGHTS. 31 

Let e'en the garments that I wear, 

In symbol-language say, 
"The robe of Jesus' righteousness 

Ench-cles thee to-day. " 

In all my long and weary walk, 

To town and back to-day, 
Talk Thou, as when at Emmaus 

Thy words beguiled the way. 

May I through all the noisy streets. 

In thine own peace rejoice, 
And hear above the noise and din, 

Thy Spirit's " still, small voice." 

And help, if, when my body tires, 

My spirit too should sink ; 
Thou who didst sit in weariness, 

On Sychar's lonely brink. 

Since Thou Thyself hast dwelt in flesh, 

My frame is known to Thee ; 
And as a brother pitieth, 

I know thou pitiest me. 

I do not stand in those bright ranks, 
Where the strong Gabriel stands ; 

I have but now slow, weary feet. 
And feeble, trembling hands. 

I cannot serve Thee, though I would. 
Like those strong ones above ; 

Yet bless this day's poor, feeble work, 
And view it through Thy love, 



3,V KOD AND STAFF. 

And bring me early home to-ni^lit, 

That I my rest m^ay find — 
As Thou found'st rest at Bethany, 

For Thine own weary mind. 

And there keep my companion's love. 

Just like Thine own to me ; 
And keep my reverent love to him, 

Just like my love to Thee. 

So keep us both this day — each day, 
Through all the changing year; 

So sanctify our blended life 
To glorify Thee here. 

Yea, cleanse it all, cleanse thoroughly— 

Who can be clean in part? 
''Wash" us, but not our "feet" alone. 

Our "hands," our "head," our heart. 

And then when we are wholly pure. 
Kinsman — Redeemer, come. 

And take us to our higher work 
Within our Father's home ! 



ROD AND STAFF. 

" Yea, thons;]! I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
1 will fear no evil : for Thou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy stafl' 
they comfort me."— Ps. xxiii. 1. 

Spare not Thy rod, O blessed Lord ! 

I need it every day, 
To keep my erring footsteps in 

The straight and narrow way. 



THE LOST DAY. 33 

Spare not Thy rod, for Tliou dost smite 

In mercy, not in Avratli, 
To urge my feet, so prone to halt, 

And loiter in the path. 

But give Thy staff, to comfort me, 

As blow succeeds to blow 
And I shall mark where Christ has trod, 

As step by step I go. 

But give Thy staff, and I shall Avalk 

Without a thought of pain : 
For every bruise the rod inflicts 

The staff will heal again. 

If rod and staff united be, 

Until my journey's done, 
I'll fearless pass the vale of death, 

And sing the victories won. 



THE LOST DAY. 

" So tcacli U9 to number our days, that we may apply our hearts 
uiit'j wi'sclom."— Pd. xc. 12. 

Lost! lost! lost! 

A gem of countless price, 
Cut from the living rock, 

And graved in Paradise : 
Set round with three times eight 

Large diamonds, clear and bright, 
And each with sixty smaller ones. 

All changeful as the light. 



34 THE LOST DAY. 

Lost — where the thoughtless throng' 

In Fashion's mazes wind, 
Where trilleth folly's song, 

Leaving a sting behind. 
Yet to my hand 'twas given, 

A golden harp to buy, 
Such as the white-robed choir attune 

To deathless minstrelsy. 

Lost! lost! lost! 

I feel all search is vain ; 
That gem of countless cost 

Can ne'er be mine again : 
I offer no reward — 

For till these heart-strings sever, 
I know that Heaven's entrusted gift 

Is reft away for ever. 

But when the sea and land. 

Like burning scroll have fled, 
I'll see it in His hand 

"Who judgeth quick and dead; 
And when of scathe and loss 

That man can ne'er repair. 
The dread inquiry meets my soul, 

What shall it answer there? 

li. H. sigour:n^ey. 



FOR THE CHILDREX. 36 



FOR THE CHILDREN. 

" Come, ye cliildren, hearken unto mc ; I wIH teach you tho 
fear of the Lord.'"— Ps. xxxiv. 11. 

Come stand by my knee, little cliildren, 

Too weary for laughter or song. 
The sports of the day are all over. 

And evening is creeping along. 
The snow fields are white in the moonlight, 

The winds of the winter are chill. 
But under the sheltering roof-tree, 

The fire shineth ruddy and still. 

You sit by the fire, little children, 

Your cheeks are ruddy and warm ; 
But out in the cold of the Avinter 

Is many a shivering form. 
There are mothers that wander for shelter. 

And babes that are pining for bread ; 
Oh, thank the dear Lord, little children. 

From whose tender hand you are fed ! 

Come look in my eyes, little children. 

And tell me, through all the long day. 
Have you thought of the Father above us, 

Who guarded from evil your way? 
He heareth the cry of the sparrow. 

And careth for great and for small ; 
In life and in death, little children'. 

His love is the truest of all. 

Now go to your rest, little children, 
And over your innocent sleep 



H6 ONLY BELIEVE. 

Unseen by your visions, the angels 

Their watch through the darkness shall keei:>. 
Then pray that the Shepherd, who guideth 

The lambs that He loveth so well, 
May lead you, in life's rosy morning, 

Beside the still waters to dwell. 



ONLY BELIEVE. 

" Jesus said unto him. If tliou canst believe, all things arc pos 
pil;le to him that bclieveth."— Mark is. 33. 

Only believe that thy Father 

Is guiding thy lonely way, 
Gruiding thee out of the darkness, 

To the light of eternal day. 

Believe that the path thou art treading, 
Though dreary, and 'dark, and cold, 

Is the same path that was trodden 
By martyrs and saints of old. 

Believe the shadows that darken 

Around thy spirit now. 
Will be dispersed by the brightness, 

That beams from thy Saviour's brow. 

Believe the hopes thou hast cherished, 
Though seeming bright and fair, 

Xake not their light from heaven, — 
They'll find no fruition there. 

Only believe it is needful 
Thv dailv cross to bear. 



OXLY BELIEVE. 37 

Needful to cudure the suffering 
If thou wouldst the glory share. 

Only believe that thy Father 

Is noting each sorrow and pain, 
And will not let thee snffer 

A single pang in vain. 

Only believe, though in darkness, 

The sun is still shining above, 
And the cup of bitterest sorrow 

Is mixed with drops of love. 

Only believe, though the thorn 

Is piercing thy inmost heart, 
Infinite grace is sufficient 

To heal thy severest smart. 

Only believe the promise 

The Saviour has given to thee, 
^'In the world ye have tribulation, 

But infinite peace in me." 

Believe that the heavenly mansions 

Are preparing for thee above; 
And all things for good are working 

To them who the Saviour love. 



38 THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 



*'THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH 
YOU." 



'• For the poor ^liall never cease out of the land ; Ihererorc, 1 
command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide nnto 
thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land."— Deut. 
XV. 11. 



Near us they pass, with ever dovvTicast eyes, 

Upon their sombre ways ; 
Their's all the shadows, our's the sunny skies. 

And all the happy days. 

Near us they pass. We, doubtless, throw a 
Of pity at their lot, [glance 

Then turn away and on our paths advance, 
And they are all forgot. 

Near us they pass, and as Ave, busy, go, 

We feel a moment's smart, 
And we look in and see the secret woe, 

The needy, barren heart ; 

And pitying thoughts may come as thus we 
Perchance our tears may flow, [view. 

But to console them we must knov them, too, 
And little do we know ! 

Know of the sorrows which their lot betide, 

Their joyless fireside hours, 
Although their sombre way lies side by side 

With our own path of flowers. 



THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 39 

We call tliem brothers oft upon our knees, 

Before the Father's throne, 
O false and cruel world! His pure eye sees 



I fear that God is weary, brethren mine, 

Of this our worship vain, 
And that no image of His love divine, 

Our selfish hearts retain. 

Oh, not for us to speak of gospel balms, 

Of God's compassion high. 
When we have for them but the facile alms 

We throw as we pass by: 

>Vhen never, pressed in ours, their hand has 
With throbs we, too, could feel, [stirred 

And we have measured out the icy word. 
Which knows not how to heal : 

If never did v/o of ourselves impart — 
What we have felt and known. 

And if they know not that their wounded heart 
Is sister of our own. 

Not such, O Jesus ! Thy consoling word, 

Not such Thy pitying eye. 
Not such the heavenly tidings which they heard 

When Thou wert passing by. 

Thou didst not look upon them far apart, 
But followed where they stepped, 

They saw Thee suffer, felt the brother's heart, 
And at thy dear feet wept. 



4:0 "follow thou me." 

Poor, outcast, blinded, guilty sons of woe, 

They dared Thy face to see. 
Ah, who that untold pity will bestow, 

They ever found in Tlieo? 

Ah, who these lonely, wounded hearts shall 
And give the good they crave? [reach, 

And who, O Jesus, our cold lips shall teach 
The blest word which shall save ? 

Who light within our souls that sacred fire, 
Which burns by night and day. 

That love which nothing can repress or tire, 
Of Thine own love a ray? 

When shall we know Thoo, Thou sole helping 
liOvo tender, stix>ng and true? [Friend, 

Wlien shall we love enough to comprehend, 
Enough to sufler too? 

When shall we love enough, ye sons of night, 

Who in your darkness fall. 
To fold you in that pity infinite, 

One Father feels for all? 



"FOLLOW THOU ME." 

■"' other slioep I have which are not of this fold ; them also I 
must bring, and they s lall hear my voice ; and there shall be one 
fold, and one ShepheKl."— John s. 16. 

Have ye looked for sheep in the desert, 
For those who have missed their way? 

Have ye been in the wild waste places. 
Where the lost and wandering stray? 



'' FOLLOW THOU ME." 41 

Have ye trodden the lonely highway, 

The foul and darksome street? 
It may be ye'd see in the gloaming 

The print of my wounded feet. 

Have ye folded homo to your bosom 

The trembling, neglected lamb ? 
And taught to the little lost one, 

The sound of the Shepherd's name? 
Have ye searched for the poor and needy, 

With no clothing, no home, no broad? 
The Son of Man was among them, 

He had nowhere to lay His head ! 

Have ye carried the living water 

To the parched and thirsty soul? 
Have ye said to the sick and wounded, 

"Christ Jesus makes thee whole!" 
Have ye told my fainting children 

Of the strength of the Father's hand? 
Have ye guided the tottering footsteps 

To the shores of the "Golden Land ?" 

Have y© stood by the sad and weary, 

To smooth the pillow of death? 
To comfort the sorrow-stricken, 

And strengthen the feeble faith? 
And have ye felt, when the glory 

Has streamed through the open door, 
And flitted across the shadows, 

That I had been there before? 

Have ye wept with the broken-hearted 
In their agony of woo? 



42 SCATTER SEED. 

Ye might hear me whispering beside you ; 

'Tis a pathway I often go ! 
My disciples, my brethren, my friends, 

Can ye dare to follow me ? 
Then, wherever the Master dwcllcth, 

There shall the servant be ! c. P. 



SCATTER SEED 



" He that goeth forth and v/eepsth, bearing precious seed, shall 
doubtless come a.r^ain with rejoicing, bringing his shea"^ es with 
him."'— Ps. csxvi. 6. 



I:sr the furrows of thy life 

Scatter seed! 
Small may bo thy spirit field, 
But a goodly crop 'twill yield ; 
Sow the kindly word and deed — 

Scatter seed! 

Sun and shower aid thee now, 

Scatter seed! 
Who can tell where grain may gi'ow? 
Winds are blowing to and fro ; 
Daily good thy simple creed — 

Scatter seed ! 

Vp ! the morning flies away — 

Scatter seed ! 
Hand of thine must never tire. 
Heart must keep its pure desire ; 
While thy brothers faint and bleed, 

Scatter seed ! 



HE KIs"OWETH ALL. ^3 

Though thy work should seem to fail, 

Scatter seed! 
Some may fall on stony ground ; 
Flower and blade are often found 
In the clefts we little heed — 

Scatter seed! 

Spring-time always dawns for thee ; 

Scatter seed! 
Ope thy spirit's golden store, 
Stretch thy furrows more and more, 
God will give thee all thy need — 

Scatter seed! 

GEORGE COOPER. 



HE KNOWETH ALL. 

" He knoweth the way that I take."— Job ssiii. 10. 

The twilight falls, the night is near, 

I fold my work away. 
And kneel to One who bends to hear 

The story of the day. 

The old, old story; yet I kneel 

To tell it at thy call, 
And cares grow lighter as I feel 

That Jesus knows them all. 

Yes, all ! The morning and the night. 

The joy, the grief, the loss. 
The roughened path, the sunbeam bright, 

The hourly thorn and cross. 



44 ''go ye iis^to all the world." 

Thou knowest all — I lean my head, 

My weary eyelids close ; 
Content and glad awhile to tread 

This path, since Jesus knows ! 

And he has loved me ! All my heart 

With answering love is stirred, 
And every anguished pain and smart 



So hero I lay mo down to rest. 
As nightly shadows fall ; 

And lean confiding on His breast. 
Who knows and iDities all ! 



"GO YE INTO ALL THE WORLD." 

" Go yo into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every crea- 
ture."— Makk xvi. 15. 

Thus Messiah's mandate ran : 

Lo ! the harvest whitening stands ; 

Love to God and love to man 
Calls for action at our hands. 

Ye who feel a Saviour's love, 

Who have known your sins forgiven, 

On whose spirits from above 
Gently falls the dew of heaven ; 

Faith and love your hearts should fill, 

And your meek petition be. 
In submission to His will, 

"Here am I, Lord, send Thou me." 



"go ye into all the Y.'0RLD." 45 

Gird the armor, and go forth ; 

To your work success be given ; 
Wide the field, as wide as earth ; 

The harvest, souls ! the garner, heaven ! 

Go, where by Alabama's waters 
The broken chains in fragments lie, 

The Union's sable sons and daughters 
Shall heed the message from on high. 

Go where the hosts of India gather 
Around some idol, dark and grim ; 

Tell them about the Eternal Father, 

And point "The Way" that leads to Him 

Go, and to Afric's swarthy nations 
tMake known the message from the skies ; 

For even there shall sweet oblations 
From many hearts as incense rise. 

Where burns a heathen funeral pyre. 
Or man bows down to wood and stone, 

There, as your lips are touched with fire, 
Proclaim — The Lord is God alone ! 

And sow the seed beside all waters, 
For God will bless His spoken word ; 

Sons from afar, and gentle daughters, 
Shall gather unto Christ the Lord. 

India shall own His gentle sway ; 

China a grateful song shall raise ; 
And e'en the heart of Africa 

Shall vocal be with i^raycr and praise. 



46 LITTLK BARBARA'S IIYMX. 

Egypt shall hear Messiah's voice ; 

The fount of life eternal flowing 
Shall make the desert to rejoice, 

And there the rose in beauty growing 

Shall lift its blushing head on high, 
A dew-drop sparkling on its stem, 

A tear perchance from Mercy's eye, 

More pure and bright than earthly gem. 

And Madagascar's leafy isle 

For Christ shall bloom, for Him shall smile; 
And He,w^hosc right it is to reign, 

Shall rule o'er island, sea and main : 

His sceptre love, his kingdom peace, 
Both iDcace without, and peace within, 

For war with all its crimes shall cease, 
And Grace shall triumph over sin. 

And Faith shall see in coming time 
The Gospel banner wide unfurled 

O'er every land, in every clime ; 
Triumphant o'er a ransomed world. B. H. 



LITTLE BARBARA'S HYMN. 

" For God has not appointee! as to wrath, but to obtain salva- 
tion by our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for ns, that whether we 
wake or sleep, we should live together with Him.'"— 1 Thess. v. 
9,10. 

A MOTHER stood by her spinning-wheel, 
Winding the yarn on an ancient reel ; 



LITTLE BARSAKA'S ITYMX. 47 

As she counted tlie threads in the twilight dim, 
She murmured the ^vords of a quaint old hymn : 
^'■Whether toe sleep, or whether toe toake, 
We are Ills who gave His life for our sake.^^ 

Little Barbara, watching the spinning-wheel, 

And keeping time with her toe and heel 

To the hum of the thread and her mother's 

song, 
Sang, in her own sweet voice, ere long, 
' ' Whether toe sleep, or tohether we wake, 
TVe are His toho gave His life for our sake^ 

That night, in her dreams, as she sleeping lay, 
Over and over the scenes of the day 
Came back, till she seemed to hear again 
The hum of the thread and the quaint old 

strain ; 
^^ Whether we sleep, or tohether we wake, 
We are His who gave His life for our sake.''^ 

Next morning, with bounding heart and feet, 
Little Barbara walked in the crowded street ;• 
And up to her lips, as she i^assed along. 
Rose the tender words of her mother's song: 
' ' Whether we sleep, or tohether toe wake. 
We are His who gave His life for our sake.''"' 

A wanderer sat on a wayside stone. 

Weary and sighing, sick and alone ; 

But he raised his head with a look of cheer 

As the gentle tones fell on his ear : 

' ' Whether we sleep, or whether we toake. 

We are His who gojve His life for our sake.''^ 



48 LITTLE BARBARA'S IIYMX. 

Toiling all day in a crowded room, 

A worker stood at lier noisy loom ; 

A voice came up through the ceaseless din, 

These w^ords at the window floated in : 

^^ Whether toe sleepy or tohetlier we toake, 

We are His zoho gave His life for our sake^ 

A mourner sat by her loved one's bier, 

The sun seemed darkened, the world was drear; 

But her sobs were stilled, and her cheek grew 

As she listened to Barbara, passing by : [dry, 

'"'■Whether loe sleej)^ or lohether toe ivake^ 

We are His who gave His life for our sake.'''' 

A sufferer lay on his bed of pain, 

With burning brow and throbbing brain ; 

The notes of the child w^ere heard once more, 

As she chanted low at his open door: 

^ ^Whether we sleep, or whether toe tvake, 

We are His tcho gave His life for our sake.''' 

Once and again, as the day passed by, 
And the shades of the evening time drew nigh. 
Like the voice of a friend, or the carol of birds. 
Came back to his thoughts those Avelcome 

words : 
^'■Whether we sleep, or tohetlier toe wake, 
We are His toho gave His life for our sake.''' 

Alike in all hearts, as the years went on, 
The infant's voice rose up anon, 
In the grateful words that cheered their Avay, 
Of the hymn little Barbara sang that day : 

' ' Whether we sleep), or whether we wake, 
We are His loho gave His life for our sake.''^ 



YOUR MISSION. 49 

Perhaps, when the labor of hfe is done, 

And they lay down their burdens, one by one. 

Forgetting forever these days of pain, 

They will take up together the sweet refrain : 

' ' Whether we sleep, or whether toe wake, 

We are His who gave His life for our sake.'''' l. c. 



YOUR MISSION. 

" But to do g:oocl and to communicate forget not : for with such 
sacrifices God is well pleased."— Heb. siii, 16. 

If you are too weak to journey 

Up the mountain steep and high 
You can stand within the valley, 

As the multitude go by; 
You can chant in happy measure. 

As they slowdy pass along. 
Though they may forget the singer 

They will not forget the song. 



Ever ready to command ; 
If you cannot toward the needy 

Reach an ever open hand — 
You can visit the afflicted. 

O'er the erring you can weep, 
You can be a true disciple 

Sitting at the Saviour's feet. 

If you cannot in the conflict 
Prove yourself a soldier true ; 

If where fire and smoke are thickest 
There's no work for you to do — 
4 



50 WHY DOST THOU WAIT. 

When the battle-field is silent, 
You can go with silent tread, 

You can bear away the wounded, 
You can cover up the dead. 

Do not then stand idly waiting, 

For some greater work to do ; 
Fortune is a lazy goddess, 

She will never come to you. 
Go and toil in any vineyard. 

Do not fear to do or dare, 
If you want a field of labor, 

You will find it anywhere. 



WHY DOST THOU WAIT. 

" The Spirit and tlie bride say, Come. And let him that hear- 
eth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whoso- 
ever will, let him take the water of life freely."— Rev. xxii. 17. 

Poor, trembling lamb ! Ah, who outside the fold 

Has bid thee stand, all weary as thou art, 
Dangers around thee, and the bitter cold 

Creeping and growing to thine inmost heart? 
Who bids thee wait till some mysterious feeling. 
Thou knowest not what — perchance mayst 
never know — 
Shall find thee where in darkness thou art 
kneeling. 
And fill thee Avith a rich and wondrous glow 
Of love and faith; and change to warmth and 

light 
The chill and darkness of thy spirit's night? 



WHY DOST THOU WAIT. 51 

For miracles like this, who bids thee wait? 
Behold, "The Spirit and the Bride say, 
'Come.' " 
The tender Shepherd opens wide the gate, 

And in His love would gently lead thee home. 
Why shouldst thou wait? Long centuries ago, 
Thou timid lamb, the Shepherd paid for 
thee. 
Thou art His own. Wouldst thou His beauty 
know, 
Nor trust the love which yet thou canst not 
see? 
Thou hast not learned this lesson to receive : — 
More blessed are they who see not, yet believe. 

Still dost thou wait for feeling? Dost thou say, 

"Fain would I love and trust, but hope is 
dead. 
I have no faith, and without faith, who may 

Rest in the blessing which is only shed 
Upon the faithful? I must stand and wait.-' 

Not so. The Shepherd does not ask of thee 
Faith in thy faith, but only faith in Him. 

And this He meant in saying, "Come to Me." 
In light or darkness, seek to do His will, 
And leave the work of faith to Jesus still. 



52 THE LORD HEAR THEE. 

THE LORD HEAR THEE. 

" The Lord fulfill all tliy petitions.'"— Ps. xx. \. 

Whene'er thou bendest silently in fervent 
thought of wordless prayer, 

And dare not even breathe aloud the impas- 
sioned wish which none may share — 

The want which burns as secret fire — God grant 
to thee thy heart's desire. 

Whene'er from thy blanched lips shall come 

the startled cry of human pain, 
Of grief that cannot be controlled, of tears and 

labor spent in vain. 
The Lord come very near to thee, and hear and 

bless and answer thee. 

When thou art weary and alone amid the dark 

and silent night. 
And no loved voice shall bid thee hope, no kind 

hands lead thee in the light, 
God listen to thy whispered prayer, and make 

thee happy in His care. 

When a dear name is on thy lips, and thy great 

love has made thee bold 
To ask God's richest, rarest gifts. His hidden 

wealth of gems and gold. 
Oh, not in vain thy prayer shall be, for God 

THY Friend, will answer thee. 



THE GOLDEIS- SIDE. 53 

Wlien, knowing best tlie highest joys, thou dost 

not ask for wealth or fame, 
ButjWitli strong heart and earnest eyes, pray, 

"Father, glorify Thy name I" 
God hear thee when thou thus shalt call, and 

grant thee this best boon of all. 

And, though the answer come by fire, in storm, 

and darkness, and unrest, 
In strife of life, and pain of soul, O child of God! 

thou shalt be blest, 
No matter what may else betide, if God by thee 

is glorified. 

So in His mightiness of love, God thy petitions 
all fulfill, 

And (we would not dictate to Him) in ways ac- 
cording to His will, 

Give thee always thy heart's request, imtil in 
Him thy soul shall rest. 



THE GOLDEN SIDE. 



" Now, the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace ia believ- 
ing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy 
Ghost."— ROM. XV. 13. 



There is many a rest in the road of life, 
If we only would stop to take it ; 

And many a tone from the better land. 
If the querulous heart would make it. 



54 THE GOLDEX SIDE. 

To the sunny soul, that is full of hope, 
And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth. 

The grass is green, and the flowers are bright , 
Though the Avintry storm prevaileth. 

Better to hope though the clouds hang low 

And to keep the eyes still lifted, 
For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through, 

When the ominous clouds are rifted ! 
There was never a night without a day, 

Or an evening without a morning; 
And the darkest hour, as the proverb goes, 

Is the hour before the dawning. 

There is many a gem in the path of life, 

Which we pass in our idle pleasure. 
That is richer far than the jeweled crown, 

Or the miser's hoarded treasure ; 
It may be the love of a little child. 

Or a mother's prayers to heaven, 
Or only a beggar's grateful thanks 

For a cup of water given. 

Better to weave in the web of life 

A bright and golden filling, 
>id to do Grod's will with a ready heart, 

And hands that are swift and willing, 
Than to snap the delicate, minute threads 

Of our curious lives asunder. 
And then blame Heaven for the tangled ends, 

And sit and grieve and wonder. 

M. A. KIDDEK. 



MY CRY. 55 



MY CRY. 

"He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious ecod, shall 
doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with 
him."— Ps. cxxvi. G. 

I HAVE toiled at my work all day, Father, 

Toiled at my work all day; 
And now as evening shadows fall 

I humbly kneel to pray. 

Thou gavcst me the work. Father, 

And bad'st me patient be ; 
So now the story of the day 



Let not my toil be vain, Father, 

Some fruitage may I see ; 
Something to tell my drooping faith 

That 'twill accepted be. 

I toil in weakness oft. Father, 

In weariness and pain ; 
Oh, grant that all my earthly loss 

May prove eternal gain ! 

Oft when I catch the gleam. Father, 
Of fair, wide harvest-fields, 

And hear the reaper's song of joy, 
To grief my spirit yields. 

For I long to join their ranks, Father, 
And swell their happy song. 



56 WE ALL MIGHT DO GOOD. 

To bring my sheaves at eventide 
With the rejoicing throng. 

My work is in the vale, Father, 

Not on the busy plain ; 
Yet though I glean but one poor sheaf, 

Oh, say 'tis not in vain ! 

And help me work with joy. Father, 

In high or low estate ; 
Content with all Thy love appoints, 
To "labor and to wait." 



WE ALL MIGHT DO GOOD. 

"As we have therefora opportunity, let us do good unto ali 
men."— Gal. vi. 10. 

We all might do good 

Where we often do ill — 
There is always the way 

If there be but the will ; 
Though it be but a word 

Kindly breathed or suppressed, 
It may guard off some pain. 

Or give peace to some breast. 

We all might do good 

In a thousand small ways — 
In forbearing to flatter, 

Yet yielding due praise ; 
In spurning ill rumor, 

Reproving wrong done, 
And treating but kindly 

The heart we have won. 



THE HEAVENLY SOWING. 57 

We all might do good 

Wlietlier lowly or great, 
For the deed is not gauged 

By the purse or estate ; 
If it be but a cup 

Of cold water that's given ; 
Like the widow's two mites, 

It is something for heaven. 



THE HEAVENLY SOWING. 

' Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the 
earih, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and 
latttr rain."— James v. 7. 

Sower divine ! 
Sow the good seed in me, 
Seed for eternity. 
'Tis a rough, barren soil. 
Yet by Thy care and toil, 
Make it a fruitful field 
An hundred fold to yield. 

Sower divine ! 
Plough uj) this heart of mine ! 

Sovv^er divine ! 
Quit not this wretched field. 
Till Thou hast made it yield. 
Sow Thou by day and night, 
In darkness and in light. 
Stay not Thy hand, but sow; 
Then shall the harvest grow. 

Sower divine ! 
Sow deep this heart of mine ! 



58 HAVE FAITH AND STRUGGLE ON. 

Sower divine ! 
Let not this barren clay- 
Lead Thee to turn away ; 
Let not my fruitlcssness 
Provoke Thee not to bless ; 
Let not this field be dry ; 
Refresh it from on high. 

Sower divine ! 
"Water this heart of mine ! 



HAVE FAITH AND STRUGGLE ON. 

" And Jesus, answering, saitli unto tliem. Have faith in God." 
—Mark xi. 22, 

A SWALLOW in the Spring 
Came to our granary, and 'neath the eaves 
Essayed to make a nest, and there did bring 

Wet earth and straw and leaves. 

Day after day she toiled, 
With patient art, but ere her work was crowned, 
Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled, 
And dashed it to the ground. 

She' found the ruin wrought, 
But, not cast down, forth from the place she 

flew, 
And with her mate fresh earth and grasses 
brought 
And built her nest anew. 

But scarcely had she placed 
The last soft feather on its ample floor. 



TRANSMITTED FAULTS. 59 

Wlien wicked hand, or clianco, again laid v/aste, 
And wrought the ruin o'er. 

But still her heart she kept, 
And toiled again ; and last night, hearing calls, 
I looked, and lo ! three little swallows slept 

Within the earth-made walls. 

What Truth is here, O Man ! 
Hath Hope been smitten in its early dawn? 
Hath cloud o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan? 

Have Faith, and struggle on ! 



TRANSMITTED FAULTS. 

" Take us the foses, the little foxes, that spoil the vines ; for 
our vines have tender grapes."— Cant. ii. 15. 

Little foxes spoiling 

The beloved vine, 
Trusted to my tending 

By the One Divine ; 
Little foxes, wherefore 

Have ye entrance found 
To the vine so precious, 

Growing in my ground? 

Have ye leaped the fences — 

Have ye climbed the wall? 
Were there tiny openings? 

Ye are very small ; 
And ye can creep so slyly 

Through a crevice space ; 
But I thought I closed up 

Every open place. 



60 TRAIN'SMITTED FAULTS. 

And I watched by daylight, 

And I watched by night ; 
For the vine that you are spoiUng 

Is my heart's dehght. 
I have kept the earth worm 

From its precious root ; 
I have trimmed its branches, 

But it bears no fruit ! 

For the httle foxes 

Have assailed the vine, 
Trusted to my tending, 

By the One Divine. 
But though I've been faithful 

Since its birthday morn, 
They were in the garden 

When the babe was born. 

For they are the failings 

That I could not see, 
When they were my failings, 

When they dwelt in me. 
Little faults unheeded. 

That I now despise ; 
For my baby took them. 

With my hair and eyes. 

And I chide her often. 

For I know I must ; 
But I do it always. 

Bowed down to dust. 
With a face all crimsoned 

With a burning blush. 
And an inward whisper 

That I cannot hush. 



AS 0:SE WHOM HIS MOTHER COMFORTET [I. 61 

O, my Father, pity I 

Pity and forgive ; 
Slay tlie little foxes 

I allowed to live 
Till they left the larger 

For the smaller vine ; 
Till they touched the dear life, 

Dearer far than mine. 

O, my Father, hear me ! 

Make my darling thine ; 
Though I am so human, 

Make her all divine/ 
Slay the little foxes, 

That both vines may be 
Laden with fruit worthy 

To be offered Thee. m. c. 



AS ONE WHOM HIS MOTHER COM- 
FORTETH. 



"As one whom his mother comfortcth, so will I comfort you 
and ye shall be comlbrted."— Is. Ixvi, 13. 



Lord, a little tired child 

Comes to Thee this day for rest ! 
Take it — fold it in Thine arms — 

Soothe its head upon Thy breast. 

Through a night of wind and storiu, 
By a dark and lonely sea, 

Beaten back by breakers strong. 
Has its pathway seemed to be. 



62 IS'OT IX TAIN. 

Weary, breathless, battered, bruised, 
Lo ! it leans on Thee for rest ; 

Take it — fold it in Thine arms, 
Soothe its head upon Thy breast! 

Whisper, as it sleepeth there, 
Tenderest, SAveetest lullabies; 

Till it smiles, as infants do, 
Dreaming of the happy skies. 

Then, dear Lord, thus comforted, 
Rested with Thy i^erfect rest. 

It shall sing to weary hearts 

What it learned upon Thy breast. 



NOT IN VAIN 



" Then I said, I have labored in vain. I have spent my strength 
for nought, and in vain ; yet surely my judgment is with the Lord 
and my vt^ork with my God."— Is. slix. 4. 



"I HAVE labored in vain," a teacher said, 

And her brow was marked by care ; 
' ' I have labored in vain. " She bowed her head, 
And bitter and sad were the tears she shed. 
In that moment of dark despair. 

"I am weary and worn, and my hands are weak, 

And my courage is w^ell nigh gone ; 
For none give heed to the words I speak, 
And in vain for a promise of fruit I seek, 
Where the seed of the Word is sown." 



NOT IX VAIX. 63 

And again with a sorrowful heart she Avei^t, 

For her spirit with grief was stirred ; 
Till the night grew dark — and at last she slept, 
And silent and calm o'er her spirit crept, 
And a w^hisper of "peace " w-as heard, 

iVnd she thought in her dreams that the soul 
took flight, 

To a blest and bright abode ; 
She saw a throne of dazzling light. 
And harps v/ere ringing, and robes were white, 

Made white in a Saviour's blood. 

And she sav/ such a countless throng around, 

As she never had seen before ; 
And their brows with jewels of light wore 

crowned. 
And sorrow and sighing no place had found. 

For the troubles of time were o'er. 

Then a white-robed maiden came forth and 
said, 

" Joy! joy! for thy trials are past! 
I am one that thy gentle words have led 
In the narrow pathway of life to tread — 

I welcome thee home at last!" 

And the teacher gazed on the maiden's face ; 

She had seen that face on earth. 
When, with anxious heart, in her wonted place, 
She had told her charge of a Saviour's grace, 

And their need of a second birth. 

Then the teacher smiled, and an angel said, 

' ' Gro forth to thy work again ; 
It is not in vain that the seed is shed; 



64 ''what matter?" 

If only one soul to the cross is led, 
Thy labor is not in vain." 

And at last she woke, and her knee she bent. 

In grateful child-like prayer — 
And she prayed till an answer of peace was sent, 
And faith and hope as a rainbow blent. 

O'er the clouds of her earthly care. 

And she rose in joy, and her eye was bright. 

Her sorrow and grief had fled — 
And her soul was calm and her heart was light, 
For her hands were strong in her Saviour's 
might, 

As forth to her work she sped. 

Then rise, fellow-teacher, onward go ! 

Wide scatter the precious grain — 
Though the fruit may never be seen below. 
Be sure that the seed of the Word shall grow; 
Toil on in faith, and thou soon shalt know 

" Thy labor is not in vain!" 



"WHAT MATTER?" 

" Wherefore, let tlierti that snlTer according to the will ol God 
commit the keeping of their souls to him in woll-doing, as unto 
a faithful Creator."—! Petek iv. 19. 

What matter, friend, though you and I 
May sow, and others gather ? 
We build, and others occupy. 
Each laboring for the other ? 



REST. 65 

What though we toil, from sun to sun, 
And men forget to flatter 
The noblest work our hands have done — 
If God ap|)roves, What matter ? 

What matter, though we sow in tears, 

And crops fail at the reaping? 

What though the fruit of patient years 

Fast perish in our keeping? 

Upon our hoarded treasures, floods 

Arise, and tempests scatter — 

If faith beholds, beyond the clouds, 

A clearer sky. What matter? 

What matter, though our castles fall. 

And disappear while building; 

Though ' ' strange handwriting on the wall " 

Flame out amid the gilding? 

Though every idol of the heart 

The hand of death may shatter, 

Though hopes decay, and friends depart, 

If Heaven be ours. What matter? 

H. W. TELLER. 



RF: S T. 

'• There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God.' 
Heb. iv. 0. 

There remaineth, it is written, 

For the people of our God, 
Rest, a peaceful rest in heaven, 

When wc sleep beneath the sod. 



66 THE UNPROFITABLE SERVANT. 

When these fragile forms are resting 

In their low and quiet bed, 
And the beauteous flowers are springing 

From tlie turf above our head. 
And the holy angels keeping 

Watch above our sleeping dust, 
Then our ransomed souls are resting 

With the God in whom we trust. 
Now, each fleeting hour is bearing 

Down to death's cold, sullen stream, 
Souls immortal, souls unransomed. 

Rouse thee, 'tis no time to dream ! 
Christian, gird thee with thine armor, 

Soon, oh, soon, thou'lt lay it down! 
And thy sword and shield and helmet, 

Change for an immortal crown. 
Let thy crown be glittering brightly 

With the souls whom thou hast won, 
Then thy ransomed soul will sweetly 

Rest in heaven when life is done. 

EFFIE JOHNSON. 



THE UNPROFITABLE SERVANT. 

"Eedeemin^ the time, because the clays are evil."— Epn. v. 16. 

In a napkin smooth and white. 
Hidden from all mortal sight, 
My one talent lies to-night. 

Mine to hoard; or mine to use, 
Mine to keep, or mine to lose ; 
May I not do what I choose? 



THE UNPROFITABLE SERVAXT. 67 

Ah ! the gift was only lent, 
With the Giver's known intent, 
That it should be wisely spent. 

And I know He will demand 
Every farthing at iny hand. 
When I in His presence stand. 

What will bo my grief and shame. 
When I hear my humble name. 
And cannot repay His claim ! 

One poor talent — nothing more I 
All the years that have gone o'er 
Have not added to the store. 

Some Avill double what they hold, 

Others add to it ten-fold. 

And pay back the shining gold. 

Would that I had toiled like them ! 
All my sloth I now condemn : 
Guilty fears my soul o'erwhelm. 

Lord, O teach me what to do ! 
Make me faithful, make me true, 
And the sacred trust renew. 

Help me, ere too late it be. 
Something yet to do for Thee, 
Thou who hast done all for me. 



68 IS YOUIi LAMP BUK:S'IAa 



IS YOUR LAMP BURNING? 



'•Let your lisrht co sliine before men, that they may Bee your 
jroocl works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'"— 
Matt. v. 16. 



A party of young friends i*ambling throi;gh '"The Glen" at 
Newport on a rural excursion, found the following lines, 8th mo. 
31st, 1869 : 

" Say, is your lamp burning, my brother? 

I pray you look quickly and see ; 
For if it were burning, then surely 

Some beams would fall bright upon me. 

" Straight, straight is the road, but I falter, 

And oft I fall out by the way ; 
Then lilt your lamp higher, my brother, 

Lest I should make fatal delay. 

' ' There are many and many around you 

Who follow wherever you go ; 
If you thought that they walked in the shadow. 

Your lamp would burn brighter, I know. 

' ' Upon the da,rk mountains they stumble, 
They are bruised on the rocks, and they lie 

With their white pleading faces turned upward 
To the clouds and the pitiful sky. 

" There is many a lamp that is lighted, 

We behold them anear and afar, 
But not many among them, my brother, 

Shine stcadilv on like a star. 



A SEED. 69 

"I think, were they trimmed night and morning, 
They would never burn down or go out, 

Though from the four quarters of heaven 
The winds were all blowing about. 

" If once all the lamps that are lighted 

Should steadily blaze in a line. 
Wide over the land and the ocean, 

What a girdle of glory would shine I 

" How all the dark places would brighten! 

How the mists would roll up and away ! 
How the earth would laugh out in her gladness 

To hail the millennial day! 

" Say, is your lamp burning, my brother? 

I pray you look quickly and see. 
For if it were burning, then surely 

Some beam would fall bright upon me." 



A SEED. 

"And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should 
cast seed into the ground ; and should sleep, and rise night and 
day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knovveth not 
how."— Makk iv. 26, 27. 

I HELD a seedling in my hand 

AVhen sowing time had flown, 
And with one loving, passing wish, 

I dropped it by a stone. 

I went my way, nor heeded more 

The hasty, trifling thing ; 
I scarcely deemed from such a soil 

A living plant could spring. 



70 A SEED. 

The spring had ripened and had died, 

The sweet mid-summer shone, 
When from my window I espied, 

A beauty by tlie stone, 

A shape, a lovely hue ; I guessed 

Some little prancing lass, 
Had shaken from her merry curls 

A ribbon to the grass. 

Yet day by day it sparkled there, 

By sun unchanged or dew: 
And then the brilliance strange and fair 

Enticed a closer view. 

A blossom in whose satin cup 

Heaven's radiance seemed to shine ! 

" O brave, sweet flower!" I softly said, 
And stooped as to a shrine : 

' ' How camest thou here ?" And then my thought 

On memory's simple track. 
Brought with a smile oi" tender joy 

My careless sowing back. 

* 

" O heart," I cried, "that loves to sow, 

Though rare the chance to reap. 
How know'st thou where thy seed may grow 

When thou shalt work cr sleep ! 

' Have faith henceforth in every good ; 

In slightest word or deed ; 
For nought thy hand may sow for God 
Shall prove a wasted seed!" 

E. L. E. 



RIPE WHEAT. 

RIPE WHEAT 



" Thou shnlt come to thy grave in a full ago, like as a shoclc of 
orn comc.h in in his iseasou."— Job v. 26, 



We bent to-day o'er a coffined form, 

And our tears fell softly down ; 
W^e looked our last on the aged face, 
With its look of peace, its patient grace^ 

And hair like a silver crown. 

We touched our own to the clay-cold hands, 

From life's long labor at rest; 
And among the blossoms, white and sweet, 
We noted a bunch of goldem ^vheat. 

Clasped close to the silent breast. 

The blossoms whispered of fadeless bloom, 

Of a land where fall no tears ; 
The ripe wheat told of toil and care. 
The patient waiting, the trusting prayer, 

The garnered good of the years. 

We knew not what work her hands had found, 

What rugged i^lacos her feet; 
What cross was hers, what blackness of night 
We saw but the peace, the Vlossoms white, 

And the bunch of ripened wheat 

As each goes up from the fields of earth. 

Bearing the treasures of life, 
God looks for some gathered grain of good, 
From the ripe harvest that shining stood. 

But waiting the reaper's knife. 



72 SOWING. 

Then labor well, that in death you go 

Not only with blossoms sweet, — 
Not bent with doubt, and burdened with fears. 
And dead, dry husks of the wasted years, — 

But laden with golden wheat. 



SOWING. 

" Be not deceived , God is not mocked : for whatsoever a man 
Boweth, that shall he also reap." — Gal. vi. 7. 

Are we sowing seeds of kindness? 

They shall blossom bright ere long. 
Are we sowing seeds of discord? 

They shall ripen into wrong. 
Are we sowing seeds of honor? 

They shall bring forth golden grain. 
Are we sowing seeds of falsehood? 

We shall yet reap bitter pain. 
Whatsoe'er our sowing be. 
Reaping, we its fruits must see. 

Wo can never be too careful 

What the seed our hands shall sow; 
Love from love is sure to ripen. 

Hate from hate is sure to grow. 
Seeds of good or ill we scatter 

Heedlessly along our way ; 
But a glad or grievous fruitage 

Waits us at the harvest day. 
Whatsoe'er our sowing be, 
Reaping, we its fruits must see. 



A LITTLE WHILE." 73 



^A LITTLE \YHILE." 

"A little while, and ye shall not see me: and again a little 
uhile, and ye shall see me; because I go to the Father."— Jno. 
svi. Ki, 

"A LITTLE while," 
Lone pilgrim, hear the word 
Of thy dear absent Lord ; 
He said thou shouldst not see him for a while, 

The dark defile 
Of life doth briefly hide his tender smile. 

"xi little while," 
The veil may intervene. 
And darkness hang between 
The form thou lovest and thy weary eyes ; 

The mists will rise, 
And that will be a sweet and strange surprise. 

"A little Avhile," 
And life's dark passing storm, 
Shall change to sunlight warm. 
And all with these shall be eternal calm, 

And angel psalm 
Shall on thy spirit pour its healing balm. 

"A little while," 
And thou slialt strangely hear, 
The accents soft and clear, 
Of olden voices ring familiarly, 

And O to thee, 
How sweet will those glad words of welcome be. 



74 CHRIST'S SYMPATHY. 

"A little while," 
And softly gliding out 
From this dark sea of doubt, 
Thy thought will rise and wing its easy flight 

Through paths of light. 
And thou shalt look upon the Infinite. 

"A little while," 
Thy weary pilgrim feet 
Upon the golden street 
"Will stand, and down the shining avenue. 

With radiance new, 
Thine own eternal mansion thou shalt view. 

"A little while," 
Pursue the way of faith, 
Though toilsome be the path ; 
Some day the darksome haze will vanish quite, 

And on the sight. 
Celestial morn will drop its changeless light. 

REV. DWIGHT WILLIAMS. 



CHRIST'S SYMPATHY. 

" I, even I, am he that comforteth you.'"— Is. li. 12. 

If Jesus came on earth again, 

And walked and talked in field and street. 
Who would not lay his human pain 

Low at those heavenly feet? 

And leave the loom, and leave the lute, 
And leave the volume on the shelf, 

To follow Him, unquestioning, mute, 
If 'tivere the Lord himself ? 



CHRIST'S SYMPATHY. 75 

How many a brow with care o'erworn, 
How many a heart with grief o'erladen, 

How many a man with woe forlorn, 
How many a mourning maiden, 

Would leave the baffling earthly prize. 
Which fails the earthly weak endeavor, 

To gaze into those holy eyes, 
And drink content forever I 

His sheep along the cool, the shade. 
By the still watercourse He leads ; 

His lambs upon His breast are laid : 
His hungry ones He feeds. 

And I, where'er He went would go, 

Nor question where the path might lead, 

Enough to know that here below 
I walked with God, indeed ! 

If it be thus, O Lord of mine, 

In absence is Thy love forgot. 
And must I when I walk repine. 

Because I see Thee not? 

If this be thus, if this be thus, 

Since our poor prayers yet reach Thee, Lord I 
Since we are weak, once more to us 

Reveal the living Word! 

O nearer to me, in the dark 

Of life's low hours, one moment stand, 
And give me keener eyes to mark 

The moving of Thy hand. 



76 A PLEA FOR HOIVIE MISSIOXS. 



A PLEA FOR HOME MISSIONS. 

"My sheep wandered through all the mountains, and upon 
every high hill : yea, my flock was scattered upon all the face of 
the earth, and none did search or seek after them."— Ezek. 
2xxiv. 6. 

From every court and by-way, 

Where sin and sorrow meet ; 
From every lane and highway, 

From every crowded street ; 
From every town and city, 

From, every hill and vale, 
Comes up a cry for pity, 

A never-ending wail ! 

O ye who serve the Master, 

Enlisted in His cause, 
AVould ye speed on the faster 

The triumph of His laws? 
Go, then, with succor speedy. 

And stand up for the right ; 
Go to the poor and needy. 
And bring them to the light. 

To every heathen nation 

We tell the Saviour's love. 
While full and deep salvation 

Comes to them from above. 
But, while with strong endeavor, 

We strive to make them free. 
Let us relinquish never 

Heathen this side the sea. 



OVER AND OVER AGAIN. 77 

High floats the Gospel banner, 

In every land unfurled, 
And loud the glad hosanna 

Rings back from all the world. 
But while these cares enslave us 

To lead these near the Throne, 
God, in His mercy, save us 

From passing by our own ! 

F. FOXCROFT. 



OVER AND OVER AGAIN. 



" For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept ; line 
pon line ; here a little, and there a little."— Is. xsviii. 10. 



No matter which way I turn, 
I always find in the Book of Life 

Some lesson I have to learn. 
I must take my turn at the mill, 

I must grind out the golden grain, 
I must work at my task with a resolute will, 

Over and over again. 

We cannot measure the need 

Of even the tiniest flower, 
Nor check the flow of the golden sands 

That run through a single hour. 
But the morning dews must fall ; 

And the sun and the summer rain 
Must do their part, and perform it all 

Over and oVer again. 



78 A STRAY LAMB. 

Over and over again. 

The brook through the meadow flows, 
And over and over again 

The ponderous mill-wheel goes. 
Once doing will not suffice, 

Though doing be not in vain, 
And a blessing, failing us once or twice, 

May come if we try again. 

The path that has once been trod 

Is never so rough to the feet ; 
And the lesson we once have learned 

Is never so hard to repeat. 
Though sorrov/ful tears may fall. 

And the heart to its depths be riven 
With storm and tempest, we need them all 

To render us meet for Heaven. 

JOSEPHINE POLLARD. 



A STRAY LAMB. 

'^ For thus saith the Lord God, Beliold, I, even I, will both search 
my sheep, and seek them out."— Ezek. xsxiv. 11. 

O, TEXDER Shepherd, gather my lamb 

Into Thy fold ! 
Hov/ can I sleep while he is astray 

On the mountains cold? 

Behold, I watch through the perilous night 

With dreary fears ; 
Seeking my lamb with longing eyes 

That are dim v\^ith tears. 



A STRAY LAMB. 7 

O, infinite Heart! tliat for sncii as lie 

Bore mortal woe, 
Is lie not dearer to Thee than to me, 

Though I love him so? 

Seeking my lamb on the mountain-side 

And wastes forlorn, 
I meet Thee, Shepherd, with bleeding feet 

And crown of thorn. 

And while, thus watching, I hope and pray 

The long night through, 
It is comfort and rest to feel and know 

Thou art watching too. 

And surely Thou, with Thy rod and staff, 

Will fold him in 
Safe, safe at last from the snares of the foe, 

And the wilds of sin. 

Oh, if he came not, my soul would stand 

At the pearly gate — 
Missing my lamb from the heavenly fold — 

And weep and wait. 

Speak to me, comfort me. Lord of Life ! 

Make me sure of this — 
That he will be with me before Thy throne 

In the world of bliss. 



80 god's ways. 



GOD'S WAYS. 

" O Lord, Thou hast searched me and kno^vn me. Thcu know- 
est my down-sitting and mine up-rising ; Thou understandcst my 
thought afar oflV— Ps. cxxxis. 1, 2. 

How manifold the ways 

(TV^'isdom with love allied) 
God takes with iis to make us know 

Our weakness and our pride ! 

I said, ' ' I will commit 

My future to my Lord ; 
Dear Father, what I give Thee keep, 

According to Thy word." 

Ah, then I felt secure, 

Since wherefore should I doubt? 
Would He not bless me, keep me, guide, 

And guard my way about? 

For, surely. He would own 

Such royal faith as mine ; 
AVould nourish me with heavenly fruits 

And comfort me with wine ; 

And I should sail with Him 

O'er seas serenely calm ; 
Had He not cordials if I ailed. 



Or, if I languished, balm? 

I conned the promise o'er — 
"¥/ho trusts the Lord aloncL 



god's ways. 81 

Shall want no good thing," till I deemed 
The universe my own. 

And claimed, by right of gift. 

All pleasant things and fair; 
Was I not partner with His Son„ 

Christ's brother and God's heir? 

And so I hugged my greed. 

And called it faith and trust; 
Forgetting who his life would save 

His life must first be lost. 

Unmindf q1, too, of this : 

"Who my true child Avould be 

Must count it joy t^ suffer loss 
And bear the cross for me." 

And this : ' ' Whom I do love 

I scourge and chasten sore ; 
Whom. I love most I chasten most, 

That such may love me more. " 

Oh, ignorant and vain ! 

Oh, blind and impotent ! 
I woke to find my riches gone 

And all my treasure spent. 

For he did hedge me round, 

My God did press me sore ; 
I looked, and there was none to help, 

Behind me, nor before. 

Then my rebellious heart 
Grew callous as a stone. 



83 "in the morking sow thy seed." 

*' God is not Love," I said; "Ho sits 
A tyrant on His throne!" 

And still He pressed me hard, 

And still He held the rod ; 
'Till, softened and subdued, I cried : 

"Thy will be done, O God! 

' ' Take what Thou wilt away, 

Only give Thou Thyself!" 
And now I serve my God for love. 

And not for sordid pelf. 

And yet too oft my heart 
Forgetful proves, and strays 

From duty's plain and pleasant paths, 
Into forbidden ways. 

But He as oft recalls. 

By kindness or by smart. 
And makes me trust Him more the while 

I more distrust my heart. 

And so He leads me on : 

Oh, may He lead me still, 
'Till, sanctified and saved at last, 

I do His perfect will. 

CAROLI]!^E A. MASOX. 



m THE MORNING SOW THY SEED." 

" Go, husbandman and sow."— Eccl. xi. 6. 

Go, husbandman and sow! 
The dew is on the lawn. 
The rt)sy-tinted dawn 



"US' THE MORXING SOW THY SEED." 83 

Invites thy coming — go ; . 
Give to the bosom of the earth tliy grain : 
The liarvest-reaping will restore again. 

Go, gentle mother, sow! 
Celestial soil is thine, 
And Life's young morning time 

In all its joyous glow; [spring 

Plant seeds of love and truth from which will 
Flowers that will know eternal blossoming. 

Go, faithful teacher, sow! 
Gather the outcasts in 
From haunts of vice and sin, 
When baleful evils grow; 
Gather them gently — lift their hearts above 
And ope the wonders of a Saviour's love. 

Go, humble preacher, sow ! 
Spread that which God has given 
Fresh from the stores of heaven, — 
No other garner know ; 
Go scatter broadcast, plenteous and free. 
The seed which freely was dispensed to thee. 

Go, earnest thinker, sow ! 
That which is just and good 
Should not a solitude 
Within thy bosom know ; 
It hath a mission — let the worker forth 
To course its orbit 'mong the spheres of earth. 

Go every one, and sow! 
To the immortal mind 
God never has assigned 



84 NEAV-YEAR RETROSPECT. 

A life supine below; 
Talents must be improved, however few, 
To meet approval at the great review. 

The field is large and wide, 
And each must act a part, 
For He who knows the heart 
Has proffered us a guide : 
And his unerring index in the breast 
Will designate the work that suits him best. 

M. A. E. 



NEW-YEAR RETROSPECT. 

'• Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart 
be acceptable in Thy eight, O Lord, my strength and my Kc" 
doemcr/'— Ps. xix. 14. 

Retrace the months, — what hast thou done 
The youth around thee to improve? 

What, through the year whose course has run, 
To win them to a Saviour's love! 

Has kind instruction been distilled 

From morning's dawn till evening's shade? 

Were hours of relaxation filled 
With Usefulness that ne'er betrayed? 

Has discipline held fast the rein, 
With prudent, firm, yet gentle hand, 

Those infant vices to restrain, 

Tha.t sought thy counsel to withstand? 

And hast thou thine own weakness felt, 
Thy constant need of help divine? 



A GERMAN TRUST SONG. 85 

And when in secret thou hast knelt, 
Has faith declared each promise thine? 

Hast thou besought the Lord to bring 

The tender children to His feet, 
That they might own their Sovereign King, 

Confessing that His love is great? 



Hast felt that they were not too young 

His pard'ning mercy to receive, 
And mingle in the convert's song? 



And feeUng, eouldst thou still believe? 



Look back, my soul, impartial trace 
The scenes of the departed year; 

Implore forgiveness, seek for grace. 
And heaven in mercy heed thy prayer. 



A GERMAN TRUST SONa 

" Blessed are they that do His eommaiidments, that they may 
have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates 
into the city."— Rev. xxii. 14. 

Just as God leads me I would go ; 

I would not ask to choose my way; 
Content with what He will bestow, 
Assured He will not let me stray. 
So as He leads, my path I make, 
And step by step I gladly take, 
A child in Him confiding. 

Just as God leads, I am content; 
I rest me calmly in His hands ; 
That which He has decreed and sent— 



86 A GERMAN TRUST SONG. 

That which His will for me commands, 
I would that He should all fulfill, 
That I should do His gracious will 
In living or in dying. 

Just as God leads, I all resign , 

I trust me to my Father s will ; 
When reason's rays decei^tive shine. 
His counsel would I yet fulfill ; 

That which His love ordained as right, 
Before He brought me to the light, 
My all to Him resigning. 

Just as God leads me, I abide 

In faith, in hope, in suffering, true ; 
His strength is ever by my side — 
Can aught my hold on Him undo? 
I hold me firm in patience, knowing 
That God my life is still bestowing — 
The best in kindness sending. 

Just as God leads, I onward go. 

Oft amid thorns and briers keen ; 
God does not yet His guidance shov/ — • 
But in the end it shall be seen 
How by a loving father's will, 
Faithful and true He loads me still 
Thus anchored, faith is resting. 

liAMPERTUS, 1735. 



A LESSOJf. 87 

A LESSON. 

** "Weeping may endure for a niglit, but joy comcth in the morn- 
ing/'— Ps. XXX. 5. 

We daily walk tlic crowded street, 

Nor heed the sky above us : 
We seldom, say to those we meet 

That there is One to love us. 
With toil and care our days are rife, 

Made sad by fears and sighing; 
This struggle is what we call Life^ 

And yet we shrink from dying! 

We mourn earth's early broken ties, 

As if naught could restore them, 
And with tear-dimmed and hopeless eyes 

We scatter pale flowers o'er them. 
The faith that should be strong to bless 

Is scarcely self-sustaining; 
And in the hour of deep distress 

No refuge is remaining. 

Oh, weak in trust, and dim in sight! 

When will ye heed the teaching. 
That heaven is never out of sight. 

Nor (rod beyond our reaching? 
The years roll on v/ith loss and gain, 

And joy comes after sorrow: 
To-day we plant in grief and pain, 

And gladly reap to-morrow. 

And yet perchance our faith to try, 

God sendeth waiting weary, 
And we grope on, 'neath clouded sky, 

In pathways lone and dreary. 



DEBBY WARE. 

It matters not, for soon or late, 

Life's lesson will be ended; 
And we shall enter heaven's gate, 

By angel forms attended ! 

KATE CAIVEERON. 



DEBBY WARE. - 

" And whosoever shall give to drink nnto one of these little 
ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily, I 
say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward."— Matt. x. 42. 

Debby was such a queer old thing 

I scarce can tell what she was ; 
She squinted her eyes, and mumbled her lips. 
And twirled her thumbs from knuckles to tips, 

And her voice was shrill and cross. 

Debby lived in a queer old house, 

As gloomy and rough as she ; 
"Weeds and briers ran wild in the yard, 
And the garden soil was barren and hard, 

With its ono-half lifeless tree. 

Nobody cared for Debby much, 

Nobody tried to care, 
Till one sweet maiden whose heart bestowed 
Such riches of love they overflowed, 

Had found poor Debby Ware. 

Debby at first was shy and cold. 

For love was so strange to her. 
But never a heart is wholly bad. 
And never a life but may be glad 

If its waves an angel stir. 



DEBUY WAKE. 89 

And Debby learned for a coming friend 

With a joyful watch to gaze ; 
She trimmed the thistles from gate to door, 
And brushed her garments, and sanded her 

With thrifty, womanly ways. [floor, 

Debby was such a queer old thing. 

But when the sweet maiden spoke, 
The mumbling mouth and the squinting eyes, 
Answered with gentle and wise replies, 
As her heart's long silence broke. 

The maiden with Christly love had brought 

The pitying Christ to her; 
And peace unwonted illumined her mien, 
Like one whose dv/elling of old had been 

But a vacant sepulchre. 

Life's highways have many a tomb. 

With tenant of grief or sin ; 
Where are the angels, through bpers and weeds, 
To find the door of their glooms and needs. 

And wait upon Jesus in? 

A little love for the Master's sake 

Is a trifling thing to spare ; 
But if poor Debby should stand at last, 
With the white robe over her queerness cast, 

Would it be a tx*ifle there? E. l. e. 



90 WHO SHALL ROLL AVf AY THE STONE ? 



WHO SHALL KOLL AWAY THE STONE ? 



" And they paid fjnong themselves, Who shall roll lis away the 
etone from the door of the sepulchre ? And when they looked, 
they saw that the stone was rolled away."— Mark xvi. 3, 4. 



What poor weeping ones were saying 

Eighteen hundred years ago, 
We, the same weak faith betraying, 

Say in our sad hours of woe ; 
Looking at some trouble lying 

In the dark and dread unknown, 
We, too, often ask with sighing, 

"Who shall roll away the stone?" 



Thus with care our spirits crushing, 

When they might from care be free, 
And in joyous song outgushing, 

Rise, with rapture. Lord, to Thee — 
For before the way was ended. 

Oft weVe had with joy to own. 
Angels have from heaven descended. 

And have rolled away the stone. 

Many a storm-cloud sweeping o'er us. 

Never pours on us its rain; 
Many a grief we see before us, 

Never comes to cause us pain ; 
Ofttimes in the feared to-morrow 

Sunshine comes — the cloud has flown- 
Ask not then in foolish sorrow, 

"Who shall roll away the stone!" 



*' HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES." 91 

Burden not thy soul Avith sadness, 
Make a wiser, better choice ; 

Drink the wine of life with gladness- 
God doth bid thee, man, rejoice. 

In to-day's bright sunshine basking. 
Leave to-morrow's fears alone ; 

Spoil not present joys by asking, 
"Who shall roll away the stone?" 



"HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES." 

" Go out into the highways and hedges, acd compel them to 
come in, that my house may be filled." — Luke xiv. 23. 

"Highways ?.nd hedges!" And what do they 

mean? — 
Something more than a road, and a rampart of 

green, 
Though the thousands that traverse the old 

beaten road. 
As they pass to and from their sweet daily 

abode ; 
Or Y>^ho on a summer's eve thread the green 

lane, 
Where Peace loves t' abide, and sweet Flora to 

reign. 
See nothing of sorrow, of sin, or of woe. 
While a smile on the road or the lane they be- 
stow. 
But are there no heart-throbs in street or in 

lane — 
No sorrows to lighten, no trophies to gain — 
No children to rescue, no children to save. 
As through highway and byway they pass to 

the grave? 



92 "highways and hedges." 

Say, art thou a merchantman, seeking for 

pearls? 
Oh, seek them not where the bhie wave sports 

and curls? 
'Tis true they ai^e pretty, those white little 

globes, 
Which deck the fair maiden, her hair and her 

robes ; 
But oh, what are they to those pearls, without 

price. 
Which lie hid from the eye in the ocean of vice ' 

Say, art thou a merchantman? Trade for a 

heart ! 
No jewel, no pearl, such a thrill will impart 
To thy soul, to thy frame, as when safe on the 

shore 
A pearl thou hast landed, neglected before. 

Ten thousand such pearls may be met with to- 
day, 

In the alley, the by-lane, the dusty highway. 

Go seek them, ye merchantmen ; buy them and 
save, 

No price is too great, be it all that you have. 

A Merchantman once left His home in the skies, 
Came seeking such pearls, but He sought in 

disguise ; 
He found them in hedges, in highv/tiys, and lanes, 
All crusted Avith dirt, all disfigured with stains : 
But when He had found them. He bore them 

away ; 
His bosom the casket, their rescue His pay. 



DRAV/ING WATER. 93 

One pearl He discovered. It lay at His feet. 
They told Him to spurn it — all vile and unmeet 
For a Merchant so wealthy, so princely as He. 
But say^ did He spurn it? Come, merchant, and 

see! 
What pearl is that set in the garland he wears? 
Ask Mary, "Who dried ui^ her fountain of 

tears?" 

What pearl is that other I see on His brow? — 
He found it : He bought it. Say where ? Tell 

■ me how? 
It was close to His side, when He hung on the 

cross, 
Despising its shame — counting all things but 

dross, 
That such pearls as these He might rescue and 

wear 
Go seek them to save them — no jewels so rare! 
And when they are found, lay them down at His 

feet. 
The prize, O how costly! the search, O how 

sweet ! 

CHARLOTTE SHIPMAN". 



DRAWING WATER. 

'• Therefore with joy shall yc drasv water out of the wells tf 
salvation."— Is. xii. 3. 

I HAD drank with lip unsated 
Where the founts of pleasure burst ; 

I had hewn out broken cisterns, 
And they mocked my spirit's thirst. 



94 sowixG iisr HOPE. 

And I said, Life is a desert, 
Hot and measureless and dry ; 

And God will not give me water, 
Though I pray, and faint, and die ! 

Spoke there then a friend and brother, 
"Rise and roll the stone away! 

There are founts of life unspringing 
In the pathway every day." 

Then I said, my heart was sinful, — 
Very sinful was my speech — 

' ' All the wells of God's salvation 
Are too deep for me to reach."' 

And he answered: "Rise and labor! 

Doubt and idleness is death; 
Shape thou out a goodly vessel 

With the strong hands of thy faith!" 

So I wrought and shaped the vessel, 
Then knelt lowly, humbly there ; 

And I drew up living water, 

With the golden chain of prayer. 



SOWING IN HOPE. 

" Commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in Him, and He 
bhall bring it to pass."— Ps. xxxvii. 5. 

" My words are poor and weak," I said, "they 
pass 
like summer wind above the summer grass. 



SOWING IN HOPE. 95 

*' To utter them seems idle and in vain; 
I cannot hope to gather them again ; 

' ' And yet, impelled by some deep inward voice, 
I must work on : I have no other choice. 

" But oh, my words are poor and weak," I said; 
' ' The truth is quick, the utterance cold and 
dead." 

'' Nay, nay, not so," He answered, "sow thy seed 
Unquestioning, God knoweth there is need, 

' ' For every grain of truth in weakness sown, 
He watches over who protects His own. 

' ' Though buried long, it shall spring up at length, 
And shake like Lebanon its fruitful strength." 

He said, and left me, while I pondered o'er 
The holy truths so often heard before. 

And while I pondered, unawares there stole 
A strange, sweet, subtile strength through all 
my soul. 

I rose and went my way, and asked no more 
If Avords of mine had any fruit in store ; 

Content to drop my patient seed, although 
3Iy hands shall never gather where they strow; 

Leaving the harvest, be it great or email, 
In His dear keeping, who is all in all. 



96 " GIVE THY STRENGTH UXTO THY SERVAl^T. " 



"GIVE THY STRENGTH UNTO THY 
SERVANT." 



" Give thy strength unto thy servant, and save the son of thiuo 
handmaid."— Ps. Ixxxvi. 16. 



Give thy strength unto thy servant, 

Weak and trembUng in his way ; 
Let thy matchless grace imparted 

Be sufficient for his day; 
Let thy mighty hands uphold him, 

Let thy truth engird him round ; 
Till at last, when Thou appearest, 

May he in thy peace be found. 

Give thy strength unto thy servant, 

Standing in the battle's van ; 
Where his many foes are thronging, 

Stronger than the arm of man ; 
Be his shield in hours of conflict. 

Be his armor in the fight ; 
Be his Captain and deliverer. 

Be his glory and his light. 

Give thy strength unto thy servant, 

When, in dark temptation's hour. 
Human strength becomes as weakness 

At the tempter's cruel power. 
Then, O Master, ever faithful. 

Let thy help supply my need ; 
Till I sing the song of triumph, 

From temptation ever freed. 



GIVE THY STRENGTH UNTO THY SERVANT," 97 

Give thy strengtli iiiito tliy servant, 

When my heart and flesh shall fail ; 
When the hopes of earth shall perish, 

In death's dim and shadowy vale. 
Trusting in thy sacred promise, 

Let me on thine arm recline ; 
Knowing that, alive or dying, 

I am still forever Thine. 

Give thy strength unto thy servant. 

In that dread approaching day ; 
When the King shall come to judgment, 

And the world shall pass away ; 
When the youths are faint and Aveary, 

And no hand can help afford ; 
Let me mount on Avings as eagles. 

And be ever with the Lord. 

Heart oi^pressed with griefs, and broken. 

Vainly longing for a rest, 
Lo! to you the Lord has spoken, 

He hath said the sad are blest. 
Thou hast prayed and longed in sadness, 

And hast sighed to see His face ; 
Oh, lift up thy heart with gladness, 

For thy tears are of His grace. 

All thy longings and thy pleadings 

Are the voice of God within. 
By His Spirit's intercedings 

Breaking off the yoke of sin. 
All thy seeking for thy Saviour 

Is the Saviour seeking thee, 
And thy longings for His favor 

Are His yearnings deep o'er thee. 
7 



98 ABIDi:?fG WITH GOD. 

Then take courage, sad and mourning. 

Though thy hope be long delayed ; 
'Tis God's Spirit gives thy longing, 

In this trust be undismayed. 
To His throne thy sighings gather ; 

For in these His Spirit mild, 
As thy heart cries, " O my Father!" 

Answers back, ' ' My child ! my child !" 



ABIDING AVITH GOD. 

"And hereby we know that He abideth in ns, by the Spirit 
which He hath given us.'"—! Johx iii. 24. 

Child of the Kingdom, born into Christ ! 
Follow the path your Master has trod ; 
Fear not, nor falter; press on with haste — 
Abiding with God ! 

Take up your warfare ! no duty shun ; 
Armor all buckled, feet firmly shod. 
Fighting with zeal till the battle is won — 
Abiding with God ! 

Suffering hunger, burning with thirst ; 

Homeless, defenceless, under the rod ; 
If it be His will, bearing the worst — 
Abiding with God ! 

Fainting for love, and longing for rest ; 

Crushed by the weight of sin's heavy load ; 
Lay it all down, and lean on his breast — 
Abidincr with God! 



THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 99 

He alone knows the way that He takes : 

Would you not rather walk in the road, 
Marked by the love that never forsakes— 
Abidmg with God ! 

Far o'er the mountain standeth your home ; 

Lonely, and dreary, seemeth the road ; 
Hark, to the voice that calleth you : ' ' Come ! 
Abiding with God!" 

Clear as the sapphire's wonderful rays, 

Beauty and Light shall fill that abode; 
Walking with Him— the Ancient of Days ! 
Abiding with God ! 

MARIE MASON. 



THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 

" Bleseed are those servants, whom the Lord, when He cometh, 
Bhall find watching : Verily, I say unto you, that he shall gird 
himself, and make them sit down to meat, and will come forth 
and serve them."— Luke sii. 37. 

"All the day you sit here idle. 

And the Master at the door : 
And the fields are white to harvest. 

And our labor almost o'er. 
You are dreaming, you are dreaming ! 

Time is gliding fast away; 
See ! the eventide is waning, 

Soon shall break eternal day. ' 

' ' Brother, my hand is feeble, 
My strength is well-nigh spent ; 

I saw you all at noon day. 
And I marked the way ye went 



100 THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 

I cried, ^ God's blessing on them, 
What a favored band they be,' 

But I'll watch upon the highway, 
God may find a work for mel" 

"Yet you tarry, yet you tarry," 

Said the laborer again ; 
' ' You ma.y idle on the highway. 

And wait all day in vain. 
'Tis easy labor 'waiting,' 

On the dusty road zoe tread, 
To toil within the vineyard ; 

Go out and work instead." 

The watcher smiled and answered, 

' ' My brother, is it so, 
Who waiteth on the Master, 

The Master's will shall know? 
He hath taught me one sweet lesson, 

I have learnt it not too late, 
There is service for the feeblest 

That only stand and wait." 

I sat me by the hedge-row, 

No burden could I bear. 
But I often thought how blessed 

In the field to have a share ! 
The loving Master whispered, 

Through the often lonely day, 
' ' Still wait on Me thou weak one. 

The lame shall take the prey." 

Not long I tarried watching, 
A wayfarer drew nigh, 



THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 101 

He was weary, sad and liungry, 

For the glowing sun was high. 
His foot lagged, faint and fainter, 

His eyes were down and cast, 
That laborer by my lattice 

At early morn had passed. 

I drew him 'neath the trellis 

Of the vine's inviting shade, 
Down by«the soft green pasture 

Our Shepherd's love hath made. 
I fetched him from the streamlet 

Fresh water for his feet; 
I spread the bread before him, 

And bade him rest and eat. 

He bathed in the bright fountain^ 

And then refreshed and strong. 
He journeyed on rejoicing, — 

You could hear his happy song. 
Where on the dusty wayside. 

The traveler had been, 
iStood One, in heavenly beauty. 

With more than regal mien. 

^'I thank thee," said the stranger,, 

"For all thy cares afford, 
For rest and food and welcome. 

Beside thy simple board." 
"Nay, Lord," I said, "what succor 

Have I bestowed on Thee?" 
" Thy service to my servant 

Hath all been done to Me." 

Oh, it was well worth watching, 
A summer's day alone; 



102 THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 

Well worth tlie weary Avaiting 
To hear His sweet ' ' Well done !" 

Is it too small a matter 

That in man's foolish pride 

He scorns one heart to gladden, 
For which the Saviour died? 

ever blessed Master ! 
The harvest field is fair, 

And Thou hast better servants 
Than thy weak one, everywhere. 

Thou never hast forsaken, 
One walking by the way ; 

Still meet me with a promise, 
"The lame shall take the prey." 

From the tangled thicket near me, 

I heard a mournful cry ; 
A little child had wandered 

From the sunny path hard by ; 
His hands were torn with briers, 

His hot tears fell like rain, 
And he wept lest he should never 

See his Father's face again. 

Close to my heart I drew him. 
And pointed to the sky ; 

1 showed him how the dark clouds, 
So slowly sailing by. 

But veiled the bright sun's radiance 
From valley and from hill. 

For the faithful sun was shining 
In all his glory still ! 

He ceased to weep, and listened ; 
I soothed Ills childish woe ; 



THE WAYSIDE WATCHER. 103 

Then on tlie way I led him, 

And soon beheld him go 
Back through the green fields singing; 

Sweet was the joyful sound, 
That told the Father's welcome. 

And the little wanderer found. 

Then on the highway near me, 

I saw the Stranger stand, — 
Stranger no more ! He guided 

The fair child by the hand. 
"='! thank thee," said He, softly, 

'' Thou hast not watched in vain; 
Behold my child returning 

Safe to my arms again." 

What grace is Thine, O Master! 

For work so poor and scant; 
How glorious is the guerdon 

My living Lord doth grant ! 
I only saw a nursling 

Was wandering astray; 
Oh, it is worth cross-bearing, 

To wait for Thee one day. 

Have ye known the shadows darken, 

On weary nights of pain ! 
And hours that seem to lengthen 

Till the night comes round again? 
The folded hands seem idle ; 

If folded at His word, 
'Tis a holy service, tried one, 

In obedience to the Lord. 

We know the joy of labor, 
Within the busy field; 



104 "O LORD, THOU KNOWEST!" 

But there are deeper pleasures. 

A faithful heart may yield 
To willing ones that suffer^ 

And listen at His feet ; 
From the far-off land God giveth 

The fruit of life to eat. 

Brief is my hour of labor ; 

My Lord my lot has cast ; 
He giveth royal wages, 

To the first called as the last. 
I have seen Him in His beauty. 

While w^aiting here alone, — 
1 know Him ever near me, 

For He cannot leave His own. 

None e'er shall lack a service, 

Who only seek His will ; 
And He doth teach His children 

To suffer and be still. 
In love's deep fount of treasures. 

Such precious things are stored,, 
Laid up for you, oh, blessed, 

That wait upon the Lord ! 

ANNA SHIPTON. 



"O LORD, THOU KNOWEST !'^ 

"For he knowetb on? frame; lie remeinbereth iliat we aj« 
«Tnet.'*— Ps, ciii. 14. 

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow 
Of the sad heart that comes to Thee for rest. 

Cares of to-day, and burdens for to-morrow, 
Blessings implored, and sins to be confest. 



"O LORD, THOU KNOWEST." 105 

I come before Thee at Thy gracious word, 
And lay them at Thy feet — thou knowest, Lord ! 

Thou knowest all the past — how long and 

bhndly 
On the dark mountains the lost wanderer 

strayed — 
How the good Shepherd followed, and how 

kindly 
He bore it home upon his shoulders laid, 
And healed the bleeding wounds and soothed 

the pain, 
And brought back life, and hope, and strength 

again. 

Thou knowest all the present — each temptation, 
Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear ; 

All to myself assigned of tribulation. 
Or to beloved ones, than self more dear! 

All pensive memories, as I journey on, 

Longings for vanished smiles, and voices gone! 

Thou knowest all the future — gleams of glad- 
ness. 
By stormy clouds too quickly overcast — 
Hours of sweet fellowship, and parting sadness, 

And the dark river to be crossed at last. 
O, what could confidence and hope afford 
To tread that path, but this — Thou knowest, 
Lord! 

Thou knowest, not alone as God, all-knowing — 
As Man, our mortal weakness Thou hast 
proved ; 



lOG A FIELD. 

On earth, with purest sympathies overflowing, 
O Saviour! Thou hast wept and Thou hast 
loved ! 
And love and sorrow still to Thee may come. 
And find a hiding place, a rest, a home. 

Therefore, I come, Thy gentle call obeying, 
And lay my sins and sorrows at Thy feet. 

On everlasting strength my weakness staying, 
Clothed in the righteousness of faith com- 
plete ; 

Then, rising and refreshed, I leave Thy throne, 

And follow on to know as I am known. 



A FIELD . 

'• The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few ; pray 
ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth la- 
borers into hiG harvest."— Matt. ix. 37, 38. 

Have you ever been in our mission-school, 
When the worn old benches Avere crowded full? 
Have you looked on the childish faces there. 
That are crossed already by lines of care? 

Sabbath by Sabbath the sunlight falls 
In brightening streaks on the gray old walls, 
And, under the window, the river free 
Sings on its way to its home in the sea. 

The ripples chime, as the waves rush on. 
To the echoing choras of childish song; 
Or the prayers of penitence, soft and low, 
More sweetly blend with its silver flow. 



WHAT HAST THOU DONE? 107 

In front of the door, the narrow street 

Is trodden hard by the children's feet; 

And every nook of the dim old room 

Is bright with their faces ; and still they come. 

Far in the depths of their wistful eyes 
A questioning thought like a shadow lies, 
A shadow of hunger, and cold and pain, 
And childish hopes that Avere hoped in vain. 

O, white is the field, and the laborers few. 
But it calls for a love that is warm and true ; 
Shall we win these lambs to the Saviour's fold 
By a careless lesson, or precept cold? 

To-day a beseeching cry goes forth, 
From end to end of the wailing earth, — 
A cry from the children, tender and sweet. 
The homeless children that throng the street. 

Shall we dare to-day to have heard in vain. 
That passionate cry of wrong and pain? 
Shall we dare hereafter in shame to say, 
"We knew the needi—and we turned awayf^ 



WHAT HAST THOU DONE? 

What hast thou done to show thy love, 
To Him who left His throne above ; 
His glorious throne in yonder sky. 
And came to earth for thee to die? 
Tell me, my soul ! 



108 WHAT HAST THOU DONE? 

What hast thou done in all these years, 
Since Christ in love dispelled thy fears, 
And in their place gave peace of mind, 
And access to His throne to find? 
Tell me, my soul! 

Hast thou the world renounced entire ; 
And for its praise felt no desire? 
From every folly turned away, 
To seek for joys that last alway? 
Tell me, my soul ! 

Whene'er a brother in his need, 
Appealed to thee to clothe or feed ; 
Did'st thou with generous soul reply. 
And for Christ's sake, thyself deny? 
Tell mo, my soul ! 

Hast thou e'er dried the widow's tear? 
Or sought the orphan's path to cheer? 
Hast thou e'er raised the fallen up. 
And bidden him once more to hope? 
Tell me, my soul? 

Or hast thou lived in selfish ease. 
Seeking alone thyself to please. 
Forgetful that thy God would claim 
Thy service, if thou bare His name? 
Tell me, my soul ! 

Forget not, soul, that by and by, 
A reckoning comes in yonder sky, 
When Christ, as Judge, will ask of thee, 

" O soul! WHAT HAST THOU DONE FOR ME?" 

Remem-ber, soul! 



woman's work. 109 



WOMAN'S WORK. 

" Whatsoever thy hand findcth to do, do it with thy might ; for 
there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the 
grave, whither tliou goest."— Eccles. ix. 10. 

DARNiNa little stockings 

For restless little feet; 
Washing little faces 

To keep them clean and sweet ; 
Hearing Bible lessons ; 

Teaching catechism ; 
Praying for salvation 

From heresy and schism — 
Woman's work. 

Sewing on the buttons ; 

Overseeing rations; 
Soothing with a kind word 

Others' lamentations ; 
Guiding clumsy Bridgets, 

And coaxing sullen cooks ; 
Entertaining company, 

And reading recent books — 
Woman's work. 

Burying out of sight 

Her own unhealing smarts ; 
Letting in the sunshine 

On other clouded hearts ; 
Binding up the wounded, 

And healing of the sick ; 
Bravely marching onward. 

Through dangers dark and thick- 
Woman's work. 



110 woman's YfORK. 

Leading little children, 

And blessing manhood's years; 
Showing to the sinful 

How God's forgiveness cheers; 
Scattering sweet roses 

Along another's path; 
Smiling by the wayside, 

Content with what she hath — 
Woman's work. 

Letting fall her own tears, 

Where only God can see ; 
Wiping off another's 

With tender sympathy ; 
Learning by experience ; 

Teaching by example ; 
Yearning for the gateway, 

Golden, pearly, ample- 
Woman's work. 

Lastly conieth silence, 

A day of deep repose — 
Her locks smoothly braided, 

Upon her breast a rose ; 
Lashes resting gently 

Upon the marble cheek ; 
A look of blessed peace 

Upon the forehead meek! 

Pale hands softly folded, 
The kindly pulses still ; 

The lips know no smiling. 
The noble heart no thrill : 



A YISIOX. Ill 

Her couch needs no smoothing, 

She craveth for no care ; 
Love's tenderest entreaty 

Wakes no responses there. 

Fresh grave in the vaUey — 

Tears, bitter sobs, regret; 
One more solemn lesson 

That life may not forget. 
Face forever hidden, 

Race forever run — 
'Dust to dust," a voice saith, 

And woman's work is done. 



A VISION. 

" As one wliom his mother comfortcth, so will I com brt you 
and ye shall be comforted."— Is. Ixvi. 13. 

SiiOWLY had passed the hours of day, 
And on a couch of pain I lay. 
Longing for health and strength again, 
Feeling that life was lived in vain. 
Grieving that there was here no spot 
That sin and sorrow entered not ; 
And praying that the Lord would send 
To me, so lonely, one true friend. 

At last the shades of night came on, 
And, lying in my room alone. 
In that strange state when half in dream. 
Half waking, all our senses seem, 



112 A A^ISION. 

A soft, clear light around me shone : 

I felt that I was not alone. 

A radiant form stood by my bed, 

An angel hand lay on my head, 

And, looking up with glad surprise, 

I met my mother's mild dark eyes. 

The love-light had not passed away. 

But shone on me with clearer ray 

Than Avhen earth's shadows dimmed their sight, 

And clouded oft with tears their light. 

She laid my head upon her breast, 

Her lii^s upon my forehead pressed. 

And while within her arms I lay, 

Beseeching her with me to stay. 

Or take me back with her to rest 

In the bright home where all are blest. 

She soothed me as in days of old, 

With loving words, until I told 

How since she left me all my life 

Had been a constant scene of strife; 

How I had sought for love, and found 

Reproach instead, until the sound 

Of loving words to me was like 

The notes of joy the angels strike. 

I told her how I'd tried in vain 

To cleanse my heart and life from sin, 

And, failing, all my nature cried 

For God himself, unsatisfied 

Until, with His great fullness filled, 

My restless longing should bo stilled ! 

I asked of her to tell me why 

He seemed regardless of my cry. 

And, taking all I loved away. 

My sun had set while yet 'twas day. 



A YISIOIs". 113 

She answered: " Child of many prayers, 

For thee the heavenly Watcher cares, 

And in the future thou shalt know 

What he has wisely hidden now. 

That all of earthly good or ill 

IIapx)ens according to his will, 

And will work out for good to those 

Who calmly in his love repose. 

But wouldst thou find a balm for grief. 

And from thy sorroAV sweet relief. 

Forget thyself, speak words of cheer 

To toiling ones, who wander here 

Through darker ways with weary feet 

And aching hearts, whom thou will meet. 

If like the Master, doing good 

Becomes thy spirit's daily food, 

Then, should'st thou falter, and thy way 

Sometimes seem lone while far away 

Thy home appears, thy heavenly Friend 

Unseen is near, and he will send 

Ministering ones to guard thy path, 

And lead thee through the gates of death 

To Heaven's clear light, whe-re thou shalt see 

How love has ordered all for thee." 

Her gentle voice dispelled my fears. 

Her loving hand dried all my tears. 

She prayed, ' ' Oh, Father, bless my child I 

And lead her, pure and undefiled. 

Through earthly snares, and give her strength 

To overcome and wear at length 

The victor's crown, v/hich shall be given 

To all through Christ who enter heaven." 



114 SEK-T OF GOD. 

I wakened at the words of prayer; 
No sound I heard, no form was near, 
Yet the sweet dream was not in vain. 
No more I ask reUef from i^ain, 
But with each token of God's love 
I pray that wisdom from above 
May guide me to those realms of light, 
To wear Christ's gift — a robe of white ! 



SENT OF GOD. 

" When lie pulteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, 
and the sheep follow him : for they know his voice.'"— Jno. s. 4. 

I travel'd once a rocky road — 

A weary road it was to go — 
With burdens, too, a heavy load. 

And where it led, I did not know. 

A weary road with rivers high ; 

Wild beasts were standing on the rocks ; 
And clouds came drifting through the sky, 

Fill'd deep with fires and thunder shocks. 

But through the clouds, and through the flame, 

And foaming floods, as on I went, 
A voice of hope and cheering came, 

' ' Fear not to go where God hath sent. " 

That voice is ringing in my ears ; 

Let mountains rise, let oceans flow; 
It matters not. Away with fears. 

If God doth send me, let me go. 

T. c. u. 



WHERE IS REST? 115 



WHERE IS REST? 

"There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of Gocl."- 
Heb. iv. 9. 

Rest is not hero, but pain, and toil, and woe 
Though mercies many mark the path we go, 
We are but pilgrims to a land above ; 
There is our home of everlasting love. 

Rest is not here. The weary-stricken heart 
Feels it hath here no sure abiding part ; 
Sunshine and storm is all at best that's here ; 
Eternal radiance gilds a higher sphere. 

Rest is not here. But Jesus can bestow, 
Faith, patience, hope, while yet we toil below ; 
Faith to believe he doeth all things right, 
Patience and hope, to lend our pathway light. 

Rest is not here. Each has its own due share 
Of suffering and sorrow here to bear; 
Yet each may lighten somewhat of the load 
Of those that travel near him on the road. 

Rest is not here. So may we softly speak 
To cheer a brother, weary, worn, and Aveak ; 
Sweet Christian kindness, for our Master's love, 
May smooth the rugged road to rest above. 

Rest is in heaven ; and e'en the weakest saint 
May safely struggle on, nor feeble faint — 
May wage and win the war in Jesus' strength, 
In ' ' certain hope " through him of rest at length. 



IIG JUDGE NOT. 

Rest is in heaven, where comes no grief nor care ; 
And pilgrims of the cross must seek it there; 
Who that hath reached that safe, bright shore 

at last, 
Would count the stormy billows he had passed? 



JUDGE NOT! 

" Let us r.ot, therefore, jiidf^e one another anymore ; but judge 
this rather, that no man put a stumbling-block or an occasion to 
fall, in his brother's ^vay."— EoM. siv. 13. 

Judge not I The workings of his brain 
And of his heart thou canst not see ; 

"Wliat looks to thy dim eyes a stain, 
In God's pure light may only be 

A scar, brought from some well-won field. 

Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. 

The look, the air, that frets thy sight. 

May be a token, that below 
The soul has closed in deadly fight 

AVith some infernal, fiery foe. 
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, 
And cast thee shuddering on thy face. 

The fall thou darest to despise — 
Perchance the slackened angel's hand 

Has suftered it, that he may rise 
And take a firmer, surer stand ; 

Or, trusting less to earthly things, 

May henceforth learn to use his wings. 



THE "little while." U? 



THE ''LITTLE WHILE." 

" For we arc strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all 
our fathers ; our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is 
none abidius."— 1 CnnoN. xxix. 15, 

Oh! for the peace that floweth like a river, 
Making hfe's desert places bloom and smile ! 

Oh, for the faith to grasp Heaven's bright "for- 
ever," 
And the shadow of earth's little while. 

' ' A little while " for patient vigil keeping, 
To face the storm, to wrestle with the strong; 

"A httle while " to sow the seed with v/eeping, 
Then bind the sheaves and sing the harvest 
song I 

"A little while " to wear the robe of sadness. 
To toil with weary steps through miry ways. 

Then to pour forth the fragrant robe of gladness, 
And clasp the girdle round the robe of praise. 

"A little while," 'mid shadow and illusion, 
To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell. 

Then read each dark enigma's bright solution. 
While meekly owning, "He doeth all things 
well." 

"A little while," the earthly pitcher taking 
To wayside brooks, from far-oif fountains fed, 

Where the cool lip, its thirst forever slaking, 
May taste the fullness of the Fountain Head. 



118 THE HARVEST-HOME. 

A little while to keep the oil from failing, 
A little while faith's flickering lamp to trim, 

And then the Bridegroom's coming footsteps 
hailing, 
To haste to meet him with the bridal hymn. 

And He, who is himself the Gift and Giver, 
The future glory, and the present smile. 

With the bright promise of the blest "forever," 
Will light the shadow^s of the "little while." 



THE HARVEST -HOME. 

" That both he that sowcth and he that reapcth may rejoice 
together."— John iv. 3G. 

From the far-off fields of earthly toil 

A goodly host they come, 
And sounds of music are on the air, — 

'Tis the song of the Harvest-home. 
The weariness and the weeping — 

The darkness has all passed by, 
And a glorious sun has risen — 

The sun of Eternity? 

We've seen those faces in days of yore, 

When the dust was on their brow. 
And the scalding tear upon their cheek — 

Let us look at the laborers now! 
We think of the life-long sorrow, 

And the wilderness days of care ; 
We try to trace the tear-drops, 

But no scars of grief are there. 



THE HARVEST-HOME. 119 

There's a mystery of soul-cliastened joy 

Lit up with sun-light hues, 
Like morning flowers, most beautiful, 

When wet with midnight dews. 
There are depths of earnest meaning 

In each true and trustful gaze, 
Telling of wondrous lessons 

Learned in their j)ilgrim days; 

And a conscious confidence of bliss, 

That shall never again remove, — 
All the faith and hope of journeying years 

Gathered up in that look of love. 
The long v>^aiting days are over; 

They've received their wages now ; 
For they've gazed upon their Master 

And His name is on their brow. 

They've seen the safely garner'd sheaves, 

And the song has been passing sweet. 
Which welcomed the last in-coming one 

Laid down at the Saviour's feet, 
Ah ! well does His heart remember. 

As those notes of praise sweep by 
The yearning, plaintive music 

Of earth's sadder minstrelsy. 

And well does He know each chequered tale, 
As He looks on the joyous band — 

All the lights and shadows that crossed their 
path, 
In the distant pilgrim land ; — 

The heart's unspoken anguish — 
The bitter sighs and tears — 



120 THE HARVEST-HOME. 

The long, long hours of watching — 
The changeful hopes and fears ! 

One had climbed the rugged mountain-side — 

'Twas a bleak and wintry day ; 
The tempest had scattered his precious seed, 

And he wept as he turned away. 
But a stranger-hand had watered 

That seed on a distant shore, 
And the laborers now are meeting 

Who had never met before. 

And one — he had toiled amid burning sands, 

When the scorching sun was high; 
He had grasp' d the plough with a fevered hand^ 

And then laid him down to die. 
But another, and yet another, 

Had filled that deserted field, 
Nor vainly the seed they scattered. 

Where a brother's care had tilled. 

Some with eager step went boldly forth, 

Broad casting o'er the land ; 
Some watered the scarcely-budding blade, 

With a tender, gentle hand. 
There's one — her young life was blighted. 

By the withering touch of woe : 
Her days were sad and weary. 

And she never went forth to sow ; 

But there rose from her lonely couch of pain, 

The fervent, pleading prayer ; 
She looks on many a radiant brow, 

And she reads the answers there ! 



GUIDE aiE, lord! 121 

Yes! sowers and reapers are meeting; 

A rejoicing host they come! 
Will you join that echoing chorus? — 

'Tis the song of the Harvest-Home ! 

CHARLES PENXEFATHER. 



GUIDE ME, LORD! 

" Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk : for I lift 
up my soul unto thee.-'— Ps. cxliii. 8. 

Guide me, Lord, in all I do, 
Keep me now, to-morrow too ; 
Help me always to be true, 

In this Avorld below. 
Change my'thoughts to i^rayer and praise, 
Through the remnant of my days ; 
Then, O Lord, my spirit raise 

To that world above. 

Bid, O Lord, thy rivals flee. 
Show me what to do for Thee, 
That I may Thy follower be 

In this w^orid below. 
Guard me, as I journey on, 
Guide me, Lord, and keep me strong, 
Till I reach my happy home. 

In that world above. 

To my prayers. Thine ear, Lord, lend, 
And Thy Holy Spirit send ; 
Be my everlasting Friend, 
In this Avorld below. 



122 "father, take my hand.'' 

Every thought and every tone, 
All my deeds and words are known 
To the Lord upon His throne, 
In that world above. 

Teach me, Lord, to read, that I 
May learn to live, may learn to die. 
Through the power oi Christ on high, 

In this Avorld below. 
Help me, Lord, to watch and pray, 
To live nearer Thee each day ; 
Lead me in Thine own right way, 

To that world above. 

MAGGIE E. MARSHALL. 



"FATHER, TAKE MY HAND." 

" I will bring the blind by a way tbat they l<now not: I will 
lead them in paths that they have not known : I will make dark- 
ness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things 
will I do unto them, and not forsake them.'' — Is. xlii. IG. 

The way is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud 
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud 
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand 
Like one bewildered ! Father, take my hand, 
And through the gloom 
Lead safely home Thy child ! 

The day goes fast, my Father! and the night 
Is drawing darkly down. My faithless sight 
Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band, 
Encompass me. O Father! take my hand, 
And from the night 
Lead up to light Thy child 1 



"father, take my ha]s^d." 123 

The way is long, my Father! and my soul 
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal : 
While yet I journey through this weary land, 
Keep me from wandering. Father, take my 
Quickly and straight [hand ; 

Lead to heaven's gate Thy child I 

The path is rough, my Fathef ! Many a thorn 
Has pierced me ; and my weary feet, all torn 
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command 
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand ; 
Then safe and blest, 
Lead up to rest Thy child ! 

The throng is great, my Father ! Many a doubt 
And fear and danger compass me about ; 
And foes oppress me sore. I cannot stand 
Or go alone. O Father! take my hand, 
And through the throng 
Lead safe along Thy child ! 

The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne 
It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn 
And fainting spirit rise to that blest land 
Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand ; 
And, reaching down, 
Lead to the crown Thy child I 

AJ^OXYMOUS. 



THE GRACIOUS ANSWER. 

The way is dark, my child! but leads to light, 
I would not always have thee walk by sight; 



1.24 "father, take my hand." 

My dealings now thou canst not understand, 
I meant it so ; but I will take thy hand, 
And through the gloom 
Lead safely home my child ! 

The day goes fast, my child ! But is the night 
Darker to me than day? In me is light! 
Keep close to me, and every spectral band 
Of fears shall vanish. I v/ill take thy hand, 
And through the night 
Lead up to light my child ! 

The way is long, my child! But it shall be 

Not one step longer than is best for thee. 

And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt 

stand, 
Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand, 
And quick and straight 
Lead to heaven's gate my child ! 

The path is rough, my child! But, oh! how 

sweet 
Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet, 
When thou shalt reach the borders of that land 
To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand. 
And safe and blest 
With me shalt rest my child ! 

The throng is great, my child ! But at thy side 
Thy Father walks : then be not terrified ! 
For I am with thee ; will thy foes command 
To let thee freely pass ; will take thy hand, 
And through the throng 
Lead safe along my child ! 



OFFERINGS. 125 

The cross is heavy, child ! Yet there was one 

Who bore a heavier for thee : my Son, 

My well beloved. For Him bear thine; and 

stand 
With Him at last ; and from thy Father's hand, 
Thy cross laid down. 
Receive a crown, my child! 

H. N. COBB. 



OFFERINGS. 

" Ofier the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the 
Lord.'"— Ps. iv. 5. 

Lord, I had planned to do Thee service true- 
To be more humbly watchful unto prayer; 

More faithful in obedience to Thy word ; 
More bent to put aAvay all earthly care. 

I thought of sad hearts comforted and healed. 
Of wanderers turned into the pleasant way, 

Of little ones preserved from sinful snare. 
Of dark homes brightened with a heavenly ray, 

Of time all renovated to Thy will. 

Of strength spent gladly for Thee day by day, 
When suddenly the heavenly mandate came 

That I should give it all at once away. 

Thy blessed hand came forth and laid me down, 
Turned every beating pulse to throbs of pain, 

Hushed all my prayers into one feeble cry, 
Then bade me to believe that loss was gain. 



126 THE WEB OF LIFE. 

And was it loss to have indulged such hopes? 

Nay, they were gifts from out the inner shrine, 
Garlands that I might hang about Thy cross, 

Gems to surrender at the call divine. 

As chiseled image unresisting lies 

In niche, by its own sculptor's hand designed ; 
So to my unemployed and silent life 

Let me in quiet meekness be resigned. 

If works of faith, and labors sweet of love 
May not be mine, yet patient hope can be 

Within my heart, like a bright censer's fire, 
With incense of thanksgiving, mounting free. 

Thou art our pattern to the end of time, 
O Cruciiled ! and perfect is Thy will. 

The workers follow Thee in doing good. 
The helpless think of Calvary and are still. 



THE WEB OF LIFE. 

" Fulfill yoiir works, your daily tasks."— Exodus v. 13. 

At my leisure I am sitting. 

Gazing at the carx)et fair 
At my feet, so rich and brilliant. 

Wove in colors bright and rare — 

Graceful tulips, full-blown roses, 
Lilies, pansies — every thing 

That can tell us of the breezes 
And the balmy hours of spring. 



THE WEB OF LIFE. 127 

It is lovely — ^and I'm thinking 

Of liow grateful we should be 
To the hand who wove these flowers. 

All so fair for you and me. 

As the warp, that holds together 
All these flashing, brilliant dyes, 

Is a thread of sombre dullness 
To our beauty-loving eyes; 

So the warp of life, too often, 
Seems a dark, repulsive thread, 

Taking in but duller filling, 

From the weary heart and head. 

If the warp be love and duty, 
And we throw the shuttle right, 

We may weave a web of beauty, 

Filled with cheerful hues, and bright. 

Come, then, let us to our weaving, 
Faithful through the passing hours, 

And with earnest hands and cheerful 
Overlay life's warp with flowers ; 

That the web we leave behind us, 

Like this carpet on the floor 
May remain a thing of beauty — 

But, unlike, fade never more — 

That the weary feet, that follow 

Us adown the sands of life. 
May tread lighter for our living, 

And have less of toil and strife. 



128 "tell JESUS." 



RETURN UNTO THY REST, O MY SOUL ! 

"Eetum unto thy rest, O, my soul, for the Lord hath dealt 
bountifully with thee."— Ps. cxvi. 7. 

O WEARY, sorrowing soul, 
Perplexed, cast down, distressed; 
There is for thee a goal, 
Where thou may forever rest. 

Lift up thy sinking head. 
Strengthen thy fainting heart : 
Christ suffered in thy stead, 
Now bear for Him thy part. 

Know, thou art led by Him, 
Who is thy life, thy rest, 
He holds thee, though unseen, 
Close pillowed on His breast. 

And when thy work is done. 
With all His children blessed, 
He'll take them to thy home, 
His sweet eternal rest ! E. IN^. M. 



"TELL JESUS." 

" Hitherto have ye asked nothinj; in my name : ask, and ye 
shall receive, that your joy may be full."— Jno. xvi. 2i. 

Go to Jesus, child of sorrow, 
Kneel, and watch, and humbly pray; 

Sin hath brought a darkened morrow 
To thy brightly opened day. 



NEVER MII^D. 129 

Dry those fastly flowing tears, 

That no mortal eye doth see ; 
Throw aside all worldly fears, 

Jesus died and bled for thee. 

Ere the weary day is past, 

And the evening shadows fall, 
At the cross thy burdens cast, 

Jesus win receive them all. 
With the morning's earliest breath, 

Bow the head and bend the knee ; 
From the toils of sin and death, 

Jesus stands to set thee free. 

When the day's long tasks are done. 

And its cares and toils are o'er. 
Count thy errors, one by one. 

Then arise, and sin no more. 
O'er the tide of human Avoe, 

Beams the eastern star for thee ; 
Turn thy gaze from all below 

To the cross of Calvary. 



NEVER MIND. 

" Casting all your care upon him ; for he careth for you."— 
1 Pjst. V, 7. 

What's the use of always fretting. 

At the trials we shall find 
Ever strewn along our pathway? 

Travel on, and never mind. 
9 



130 AN EARLY MTSSIO^fARY. 

Travel onward ; working, hoping 
Cast no lingering look behind 

At the trials once encountered; 
Look ahead, and never mind. 

What is past is past forever; 

Let all the fretting be resigned ; 
It will never help the matter — 

Do your best, and never mind. 

And if those who might befriend you, 
Whom the ties of nature bind, 

Should refuse to do their duty, 
Look to heaven, and never mind. 

Friendly words are often spoken 
When the feelings are unkind ; 

Take them for their real value, 
Pass them on, and never mind. 

Fate may threaten, clouds may lower, 
Enemies may be combined; 

If your trust in God is steadfast, 
He will help you, never mind. 



AN EARLY MISSIONARY. 

" Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did : is 
not this the Christ ?"— Jno. iv. 29. 

She left her pitcher at the well, and to her 

home returned, 
The welcome words of life to bear, that in her 

full heart burned. 



A]N' EARLY MISSTOXARY. 131 

Her kindred and the strangers' ear alike the 

news receive, 
Of water from a hidden spring the Saviour 

Avaits to give. 
With joyful haste and zealous love she turns 
to seek her home ; 
. The ceaseless burden of her theme, behold, the 
Christ is come I 
He waits — Messiah waits to bless, as none e'er 

blessed before ; 
Come drink ye of the living stream, believe and 

thirst no more I 
Come ! and behold Messiah's face, of Avhom the 

people tell ! 
Oh ! come and hear His holy voice ! He waiteth 

by the well. 
Oh, come to Christ? Samaria's hills echo His 

name aloud, 
And tidings of Messiah fly amid the wond'ring 

crowd. 
Like her of Sychar, hast thou drank of that 

blest fount? Then go, 
Let others l|arn the priceless gifts that from 

the waters flow. 
Go forth! and in thy Saviour's strength thy 

voice shall yet be heard, 
And Avandering hearts shall turn, and bless a 
feeble woman's word. 



132 * ''not as our ways. 



"NOT AS OUR WAYS." 

"For my thoughts arc not j'our thoughts ; neither arc your 
ways my ways, eaith the Lord."— Is. Iv. 8. 

The Spring hath birds, however late, 
And June must bring her roses 

To faintest hearts that trustful wait 
For what God's love discloses. 

We look along the shining ways. 

To see the angels' faces ; 
They come to us in darkest days, 

And in the bleakest places. 

We learn our weakness of our pride, 
Our strength from out our weakness ; 

Sweet Patience brings, for gifts denied, 
The greater gift of meekness. 

The strongest hearts have strongest need ; 

For them the fiery trial : 
Who walks a saint in word and deed 

Is saint by self-denial. 

We ask of God the sunniest way. 

He answers with a sorrow; 
We faint beneath the cross to-day, 

We Avear the crown to-morrow. 

E. B. c. 



THE HAPPIEST LIFE. 133 

THE HAPPIEST LIFE. 

"If thou draw ou' thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the 
afflicted soul ; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy dark- 
ness be as the noonday ; and the Lord shall.guide thee continually, 
and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones ; and 
thou Shalt be like a watered garden."— Is. Iviii. 10, 11. 

My heart was sad and weary, because life's toil 
and care 

Brought so much disappointment and heart- 
ache everywhere. 

Alas! how few among us contented with our 
lot, 

How many of us wishing to be what we are not. 

To me life seemed to have no object any more, 
To one so mean, so humble, nothing, worth 

living for. 
Why had I not some talent, some way, some 

means to fame, 
That I, like many others, might make for me 

a name? 

Me thought, life would be happy, with joys that 
could not fail. 

Were I a Rosa Bonheur, or a Florence Night- 
ingale. 

Then far in distant nations my name would find 
its way, 

And all would have some homage, some word 
of praise to say. 

But, thanks to Christian training, my better 
thoughts came back, 



134 THE HAPPIEST LIFE. 

And told me that a life of fame much happiness 

Avill lack. 
There was a Prima Donna — the world has 

learned her name — 
Who watched a peasant kiss her babe, and 

wept to own the same. 



Thus things that God ordaineth the human 

heart to love, 
Alone can fill the yearning, and satisfaction 

prove. 
To share the joys and sorrows of some one 

while we live, — 
This is the sweetest peace and joy that love can 

ever give. 

No one is there among us but some warm heart 

may win ; 
No home, how small soever, but love can enter 

in. 
But if this be denied thee — some home, some 

heart to share. 
Go forth among the needy, and seek it every- 

Avhere. 



To sit beside the pillow of some sick, suffering 

one; 
To cheer some little orphan, that feels itself 

alone ; 
In hospital, in prison, to be a Howard there; 
To teach the broken-hearted that Christ will 

hear their prayer. 



I HAVE XOTHIXG TO GIVE. 135 

To take a fellow-feeling, to speak in tones of 
love, 

Ah! v\^}iat a marvellous power it hath the har- 
dened heart to move ; 

There's more heroic action, more deeds of honor 
done, 

In quiet, humble walks of life, than ever bat- 
tles won. 

And thus each day shall gather some goodly 

pearls for thee ; 
If thou, in patient waiting, work out Gfod's will 

in thee; 
And then at last the evening shall close in 

peacefully, 
And bring that angel's whisper, ''The Master 

caUeththee!" 



I HAVE NOTHINa TO GIVE. 



" Moreover, it is required in stewards, that a man be found 
faithful."'— 1 Cou. iv. 2. 



If you'd be a faithful steward, 

You Avill never thus refuse, 
You will give a true percentage 

To the Lord for all you use ; 
Y^ou will set apart the firstlings 

Of the flocks within your field. 
And the vineyard's first rich fruitage, 

Will to the Master yield. 



136 THE BURDEN BEARER. 

If you love the blessed Giver, 

You will give a little time ; 
If you cannot give a dollar, 

You will gladly give a dime ; 
And although, not very able. 

Some poor Lazarus will be fed 
By the fragments from your table. 

By your crusts, and crumbs of bread. 

Small gifts of self-denial. 

These lowly widow-mites, 
In the book of God's remembrance 

The recording angel writes ; 
It is lent unto the Master, 

Who has promised to repay ; 
And the bread cast on the water. 

Will return again some day. 

If we give cool cups of water 

To the thirsty ones we meet. 
If we feed and clothe the hungry. 

If we wash each other's feet. 
We shall drink from living fountains, 

And on sweetest manna fare, 
Bathe in seas of bliss immortal. 

Spotless robes of glory wear. 

EMMA C. NASON. 



THE BURDEN-BEARER. 

" Come unto me, all ye that lator and are heavy-laden, and ] 
will give you rest."— Matt. xi. 28. 

O! the blessed promise, given on the hills of 
Galilee, 



THE BURDEK-BEARER. 137 

To tlie weary, heavy-laden, still is made to you 
and me. 

Many a heart has thrilled to hear it — many a 
tear been wiped away ; 

Many a load of sin been lifted, many a midnight 
turned to day; 

Many a broken, contrite spirit, lonely, sorrow- 
ing and sad. 

Felt the mighty consolation — heard the heav- 
enly tidings glad ; 

And the dying gazed with rapture, trusting in 
the Saviour's name, 

On the land of rest and refuge, when the Bur- 
den-bearer came. 

Lazarus lies unfed and fainting — Peter sinks 

beneath the wave ; 
Loving Mary lingers sadly, near the Saviour's 

guarded grave. 
Blind Bartimeus, by the wayside, begs his 

bread disconsolate ; 
For the moving of the waters, at the pool the 

suffering wait ; 
In the wilderness the lepers wander, outcast, in 

their pain ; 
Paul and Silas, in the prison, bear the fetter 

and the chain ; 
Mary Magdalene is weeping, friendless in her 

sin and sham.e. 
But their burdens all were lifted when the Bur- 
den-bearer came. 

Every phase of human sorrow fills the path we 
tread to-day. 



13S BLESSED IS THE MAIS' THOU CHASTEXETH. 

Harps are hanging on the willows — souls are 

fainting by the way ; 
But there still is balm in Gilead, and though 

here on earth, we w^eep, 
God, Avithin the many mansions, giveth His be- 
loved sleep. 
On the cloud His rainbow glitters — shines the 

star of Faith above — 
God will not forsake nor leave us — let us trust 

His truth and love ; 
And beyond the shining river we shall bless 

His holy name, 
That to bear our sins and sorrows, Christ, the 

Burden-bearer came. 



BLESSED IS THE MAN WHOM THOU 
CHASTENETH. 

" Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord, aud teach- 
est him oat of thy law."— Ps. xciv. 12. 

O Saviour, whose mercy, severe in its kindness, 
Has chastened my wanderings and guided 
my way, 
Adored be the power which illumined my blind- 
ness, 
And weaned me from phantoms that smiled 
to betray. 

Enchanted with all that was dazzling and fair, 
I followed the rainbow, I caught at the toy ; 

And still in displeasures, Thy goodness was 
there, 
Disappointing the hope, and defeating the 

joy. 



BLESSED IS THE MAN THOU CHASTE^'ETH. 139 

The blossom blushed bright, but a worm was 
below, 
The moonlight shone fair — there was blight 
in the beam ; 
Sweet whispered the breeze, but it whispered 
of woe; 
And bitterness flowed in the soft-flowing 
stream. 

So, cured of my folly, yet cured but in part, 
I turned to the refuge Thy pity displayed; 

And still did this eager and credulous heart 
Weave visions of promise, that bloomed but 
to fade. 

I thought that the course of the pilgrim to 
heaven 
Would be bright as the summer, and glad 
as the morn ; 
Thou show'dst me the path — it was dark and 
uneven. 
All rugged with rock, and all tangled with 
thorn. 

I dreamed of celestial reward and renown ; 
I grasped at the triumph which blesses the 
brave ; 
I asked for the palm-branch, the robe, and the 
crown ; 
I asked — and Thou show'dst me a cross, and 
a grave. 

Subdued and instructed, at length, to Thy will. 
My hopes and my longings I fain would resign ; 



140 CASTING ALL ON JESUS. 

O give me the heart that can wait and be still, 
Nor know of a wish nor a pleasure but Thine. 

There are mansions exempted from sin and from 

woe, 

But they stand in a region by mortals untrod ; 

There are rivers of joy — but they roll not below ; 

There is rest — but it dwells in the presence 

of God. 



CASTING ALL ON JESUS. 

" I can do all things through Christ, -which streiigtbeneth mc. 
-Phil. iv. 13. 

I LEFT it all with Jesus 

Long ago ; 
All my sin I brought Him, 

And my woe. 
When by faith I saw Him 

On the tree, 
Heard His small, still whisper, 

'"Tis for thee," 
From my heart the burden 

Rolled away. 

Happy day! 

I leave it all with Jesus, 

For He knows 
How to steal the bitter 

From life's woes ; 
How to gild the tear-drop 

With His smile. 
Make the desert garden 

Bloom awhile. 



SOME MOTHER'S CHILD. 141 

When my weakness leaneth 
On His might 
All seems light. 

I leave it all with Jesus 

Day by day ; 
Faith can firmly trust Him, 

Come what may. 
Hope has dropped her anchor, 

Found her rest 
In the calm, sure haven 

Of His breast ; 
Love esteems it heaven 

To abide 

At His side. 

Oh, leave it all with Jesus, 

Drooping soul; 
Tell not half thy story. 

But the whole. 
Worlds on worlds are hanging 

On His hand ; 
Life and death are waiting 

His command; 
Yet His tender bosom 

Makes thee room : 

O come home ! 



SOME MOTHER'S CHILD. 

"And or some have compassion, making a tTifference."'— Judb 
V. 22. 

At home or away, in the alley or street, 
Wherever I chance in this wide world to meet 



142 SOME mother's child. 

A girl that is thoughtless, or iDoy that is wild, 
My heart echoes softly, ' ' 'Tis some mother's 
child." 

And Avhen I see those o'er whom long years 
have rolled, 

Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spir- 
its are cold. 

Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled, 

A voice whispers sadly, "Ah, some mother's 
child." 

No matter how far from the right she hath 

strayed ; 
No matter what inroads dishonor hath made : 
No matter what elements cankered the pearl — 
Though tarnished and sullied, she is some 

mother's girl. 

No matter how wayward his footsteps have 
been ; 

No matter how deep he is sunken in sin ; 

No matter how low is his standard of joy — 

Though guilty and loathsome, he is some moth- 
ers boy. 

That head hath been pillowed on tenderost 

breast ; 
That form hath been wept o'er, those lips ha v^e 

been pressed; 
That soul hath been prayed for, in tones sweet 

and mild ; 
For lier sake deal gently with some mother's 

child. 

FRATS'CIS L. KEELER. 



LIVING BY THE MOMENT. 143 

LIVING BY THE MOMENT. 

" Take, therefore, no thought for the morrow : for the morrow 
shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the 
day is the evil thereof.''— Matt. vi. 34. 

The morrow, Avlien it comes shall know 

Its daily task, its daily care ; 
But not till then it deigns to show 

Its needed act, its needed prayer. 

Then to the present be thou true ; 

To that let thought and act be given ; 
And thou shalt find a vigor new, 

To take the next great step to heaven. 

Each moment's task and duty done. 
As ceaseless each to each succeeds ; 

'Tis thus goes down life's setting sun, 
Serene and bright with worthy deeds. 

'Tis thus that heavenly bands shall r^reet 
Thine entrance to the realms of bliss ; 

Thy trials past, thy work complete. 
And crown'd with endless happiness. 

t. c. it. 



WHAT NEED OF THEE! 

" The Lord is my portion, saith my soul ; therefore will I hope 
in Him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, to the 
9cul that seeketh Him."— Lam. iii. 24, 25. 

Thou knowest, O my Saviour dear, 
What need I have of Thee ! 



141 WHAT NEED OF THEE. 

Each secret sigh Thy heart doth hear, 
Each hidden grief doth see. 

My weight of ill I could not bear, 

My duties could not do, 
If thou didst not the sorrow share. 

And bear the burden too. 

I'm glad it honors Thee to lay 
My head upon Thy breast, 

And with a child's assurance say 
This is my chosen rest ; 

For pain if borne to that retreat 

Has something of repose. 
And bitter cups have drops of sweet 

No other portion knows. 

But, Saviour, I am ill content, 

My wants alone to bring, 
I long in service to be spent. 

As love's best offering. 

It seems so small and weak and poor, 
To pour my cares on Thee, 

With no return for all the dower 
Thy grace bestows on me. 

Not that Thy greatness lacks the mite 

My littleness could give; 
Thy strength. Thy fullness infinite. 

Could nought from me receive. 



WHAT NEED OF THEE. 145 

Thou hast no less, whate'er to me 

Thy goodness may impart; 
I have but more for rendering Thee 

The fullness of my heart. 

My heart would toil for love's dear sake, 

For love the only prize, 
So on love's altar life should make 

Perpetual sacrifice. 

Yet still methinks I hear Thy voice, 

' ' Let love and longing rest. 
Who waits nor urges other choice, 

May serve me most and best." 

*' Who waits! Tlioa knowest, O Saviour dear, 

What need I have of Thee ! 
I faint and waste with waiting here. 

This is Thy cross to me. 

Life wears in weariness ; my heart 

Sore 'neath its burden lies ; 
Waiting for God my only part. 

My all of sacrifice. 

But since Thou dost command me so, 

Like duty's full employ, 
I'll wait, nor ask to come or go. 

But make my cross my joy. 

Waiting for God my heart shall sing. 

And in its silence praise ; 
Praise the sole offering I may bring, 

Through all the earthly days. 



146 THE CASTAWAY. 

Thou knowest, O my Saviour dear, 

What need I have of Thee ! 
Waiting is sweet if thou art here 

To bear the cross with nie. E. L. E, 



THE CASTAAVAY. 

"And He said to the woman, Thy faith hath saveJ thee, go i» 
peace."— Luke vii. 50. 

There was once a castaway, 
And she was weeping, weeping bitterly ; 
Kneehng and crying Avith a heart-sick cry, 
That choked itself in sobs, ' ' O my good name ! 
O my good name !" and none did hear her cry. 
Nay; and it lightened, and the storm-bolts fell, 
And the rain splashed upon the roof, and still 
She, stormed-tossed as the stormy elements, 
She cried with an exceeding bitter cry, 
"O my good name !" And then the thunder- 
cloud 
Stooped low and burst in darkness overhead. 
And rolled and rocked her on her knees, and 

shook 
The frail foundations of her dwelling-place; 
But she — if any neighbor had come in, 
(None did) — if any neighbor had come in 
He might have seen her crying on her knees. 
And sobbing, "Lost, lost, lost!" beating her 

breast — 
Her breast forever pricked with cruel thorns. 

* * * t- =■:< * 

O ye good woman ! it is hard to leave 
The paths of virtue and return again. 



THE VALUE OP A LITTLE. 147 

"Wliat if this sinner wept, and none of you 
Comforted her — and what if she did strive 
To mend, and none of you beheved her strife, 
Nor looked upon her! 

But I beseech 
Your patience. Once in old Jerusalem 
A woman kneeled at consecrated feet, 
Kissed them and washed them with her tears, 

What then? 
I think that yet our Lord is pitiful ; 
I think I see the castaway e'en now ! 
And she is not alone ; the heavy rain 
Splashes without, and sullen thunder rolls, 
But she is lying at the sacred feet 
Of One transfigured. 

And her tears flow down, 
Down to her lips — her lips that kiss the print 
Of nails, and love is like to break her heart, 
Love and repentance — for it still doth work 
Sore in her soul to think, to think that she, 
Even she, did pierce the sacred, sacred feet, 
And bruised the thorn-crowned head. 

O Lord, our Lord, 
How great is Thy compassion ! 



THE VALUE OF A LITTLE. 



'■'• Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost."— 
John vi. 12. 



Do thy little, do it well. 

Do what right and reason tell; 



148 THE VALUE OF A LITTLE. 

Do what wrong and sorrow claim, 
Conquer sin and cover shame. 

Do thy little, though it be 

Dreariness and drudgery; 

They whom Christ apostles made, 

" Gathered fragments" when he bade. 

Do thy little ; never mind 
Though thy brethren be unkind; 
Though the men who ought to smile, 
Mock and taunt thee for a while. 

Do thy little ; never fear 
While thy Saviour standeth near; 
Let the world its javelins throw, 
On thy way undaunted go. 

Do thy little ; God hath made 
Million leaves for forest shade ; 
►Smallest stars their glory bring, 
God employeth everything. 

Do thy little, and when thou 
Feelest on thy pallid brow, 
Ere has fled the vital breath. 
Cold and damp the sweat of death — 

Then the little thou hast done, 
Little battles thou hast won. 
Little masteries achieved, 
Little want with care relieved, 
T/ittle words in love expressed, 
liittle v.Tongs at once confessed, 



WEIGHING THE BABY. 149 

Little favors kindly done. 
Little toils thou didst not shun, 
Little graces meekly worn, 
Little slights with patience borne — 

These shall crown the pillowed head, 
Holy light upon thee shed ; 
These are treasures that shall rise 
Far beyond the smiling skies. 



WEIGHING THE BABY. 

" Take this child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee 
thy wages."— Ex. ii. 0. 

"How many pounds does the baby weigh, 
Baby who came but a month ago? 
How many pounds from the crowning curl 
To the rosy point of the restless toe?" 

Grandfather ties the 'kerchief's knot. 
Tenderly guides the swinging weight, 
x\nd carefully over his glasses peers 
To read the record, "only eight." 

Softly the echo goes around; 
The father laughs at the tiny girl. 
The fair young mother sings the words. 
While grandmother smooths the golden curl. 

And stooping above the precious thing. 
Nestles a kiss within a prayer. 
Murmuring softly, "Little one, 
Grandfather did not weigh you fair. " 



150 GO FORTH a:xd reap. 

Nobody weighed the baby's smile, 
Or the love that came with the helpless one; 
Nobody weighed the threads of care, 
From which a woman's life is spun. 

No index tells the mighty worth 
Of little baby's quiet breath, 
A soft, unceasing metronome, 
Patient and faithful unto death. 

Nobody weighed the baby's soul. 
For here on earth no weight there be 
That could avail : God only knows 
Its value in eternity. 

Only eight pounds to hold a soul 
That seeks no angel's silver wings 
But shines in it this human guise, 
Within so small and frail a thing ! 

Oh, mother, laugh your merry note ; 
Be gay and glad, but don't forget 
From baby's eyes looks out a soul 
That claims a place in Eden yet. 



GO FORTH AND REAP- 

"He that reapeth receiveth wages, and gath.eretli frnit anto 
life eternal."— John iv. 36. 

When thou hast sown the precious so«d 
Of truth and love by word and deed, 
In patience then the Master heed, 
Go forth and reap I 



REST. 151 

When thou hast viewed the whitened field, 
Burdened with its abundant yield, 
Prepare the harvest blade to wield, — 
Go forth and reap ! 

Alas! alas I the precious grain 
Is trodden by the hoof of gain. 
O saint, le.t love of Christ constrain ! 
Go forth and reap] 

When thou hast prayed, and waited long, 
For truth hast suffered shame and wrong, 
Take up the hopeful reaper's song, — 
Go forth and reap ! 

The reaper wages full receives, 
And garners up immortal sheaves; 
Let him this i^romise who believes, 
Go forth and reap ! 



REST. 



" There reraainetli, therefore, a rest to the pcoplie of God.' 
Heb. h\ 9. 



Oh, toilers in life's vineyard, 

Who sigh for perfect rest, 
Wliose dim eyes, peering upward 

With weight of tears oppressed, 
Ix)ok for the blissful slumber 

God gives to his beloved ; 
Wait till the day is over, 

And He the task has moved. 



352 REST. 

Here, where the long, long morning 

Melts into busy noon, 
The hours are all unrestful, 

But evening cometh soon ; 
Lo, on the upreared mountain 

The first faint shadow lies, 
And God will draw His curtains 

Over the far-off skies. 

Short slumbers has the pilgrim, 

His ready staff in hand ; 
The soldier may but linger 

Till the foe is in the land ; 
The child must hasten homeward, 

O'er hill and field and dell ; 
And the golden gates are open, 

Where they each in rest shall dwelL 

Oh, weary heart, take courage ! 

Oh, feet, march on awhile ! 
Oh, busy hands, still labor! 

Tired eyes shall see Him smile, 
Who has within His keeping, 

Still waiting for your claim, 
The perfect rest of heaven, 

The gladness of His name. 

No storm disturbs the waters, 

No wind shakes that repose ; . 
No trumpet calls to battle, 

Nor triumph then the foes. 
Though season follow season. 

And year fade into year, 
That rest is still remaining. 

That heaven shall still appear. 



THE CHANGED CROSS. 153 

Take up the burden, Christian, 

And bear or labor on : 
Only a little sorrow. 

And the kingdom shall be won. 
Only a few more footsteps, 

And then the tranquil rest ; 
Only a few more longings. 

And then the sheltering breast 

MARIANjVE farjn^ixgham. 



THE CHANGED CROSS. 

" I know the thoughts that I think toward yon, saith the Lord, 
thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." 
— Jer. xxis. 11. 

It was a time of sadness, and my heart. 
Although it knew and felt the better part, 
Felt wearied with the conflict and the strife, 
And all the needful discipline of life. 

And while I thought on these as given to me^ 
My trial tests of faith and love to be — 
It seemed as if I never could be sure 
That faithful to the end I should endure. 

And thus, no longer trusting to His might. 
Who says, "We walk by faith, and not by 

sight," 
Doubting and almost yielding to despair, 
The thought arose — my cross I cannot bear. 

For heavier its weight must surely be 
Than those of others which I daily see; 
Oh, if I might another burden choose, 
Methinks I should not fear my crown to lose! 



154 THE CHANGED CROSS. 

A solemn silence reigned on all around — 
E'en Nature's voices uttered not a sound; 
The evening shadows seemed of peace to tell, 
And sleep upon my weary spirit fell. 

A moment's pause, and then a heavenly light 
Beamed full upon my wondering, raptured sight, 
Angels on silvery wings seemed everywhere. 
And angels' music thrilled the balmy air. 

Then One, more fair than all the rest to see — 
One to whom all the others bowed the knee- 
Came gently to me, as I trembling lay. 
And, "Follow me," He said, "I am the way." 

Then speaking thus. He led me far above ; 
And there, beneath a canopy of love, 
Crosses of divers shape and size were seen. 
Larger and smaller than my own had been. 

And one there was most beauteous to behold — ■ 
A little one with jewels set in gold: 
Ah, this methought, I can with comfort wear. 
For it will be an easy one to bear. 

And so the little cross I quickly took 
But all at once my frame beneath it shook; 
The sparkling jewels, fair were they to see, 
But far too heavy was their weight for me. 

"This may not be," I cried, and looked again. 
To see if there was any here could ease my pain, 
But one by one I passed them slowly by, 
Till on a lovely one I cast my eye. 



THE CHANGED CROSS. 155 

Fair flowers around its sculptured form en- 
twined ; 
And grace and beauty seemed in it combined; 
Wondering, I gazed, and still I wondered more 
To think so many should have passed it o'er. 

But oh, that form, so beautiful to see ! 
Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me : 
Thorns lay beneath those flowers and colors 
fair, 



And so it was with each and all around : 

Not one to suit my need could there be found ; 

Weeping, I laid each heavy burden down, 

As my Guide gently said, ' ' No cross, no crown T 

At length to Him I raised my saddened heart : 
He knew its sorrows, bid its doubts depart. 
"Be not afraid," He said, "but trust in me — 
My perfect love shall now be shown to thee." 

And then, with lightened eyes and willing feet, 
Again I turned, my earthly cross to meet, 
With forward footsteps, turning not aside. 
For fear some sudden evil might betide. 

And there, in the prepared, appointed way — 
Listening to hear, and ready to obey — 
A cross I quickly found of plainest form, 
With only words of love inscribed thereon. 

With thankfulness I raised it from the rest, 
And joyfully acknowledged it the best — 



156 YOUR MISSION. 

The only one of all the many there 

That I could feel was good for me to bear. 

And while I thus my chosen one confessed, 
I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest ; 
And as I bent my burden to sustain, 
I recognized my own old cross again ! 

But oh, how different did it seem to be 
Now I had learned its preciousness to see ! 
No longer could I unbelieving say, 
Perhaps another is a better way. 

Ah, no! henceforth my own desire shall be, 
That He who knows me best should choose for 

me; 
And so whate'er His love sees good to send, 
I'll trust it's best, because He knows the end. 



YOUR MISSION. 

" Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is 
in the power of thine hand to do it,"— Pkov. iii. 27. 

Hark! the voice of Jesus crying, 

Who will go and work to-day? 
Melds are white, and harvests waiting, 

Who will bear those sheaves away? 
Loud and long the Master calleth, 

Rich reward he offers free : 
Who will answer, gladly saying : 

"Here am I, send me, send me?" 



a:s eyexixg prayeFw. 157 

If you cannot cross the ocean, 

And the heathen lands explore, 
You can find the heathen nearer, 

You can help them at your door. 
If you cannot give your thousands, 

You can give the widow's mite. 
And the least you give to Jesus 

Will be precious in his sight. 

If you cannot speak like angels, 
If you cannot preach like Paul, 

You can tell the love of Jesus, 
You can say he died for all. 

If you cannot rouse the wicked 

With the judgment's dread alarms. 

You can lead the little children 



Let none hear you idly saying, 

' ' There is nothing I can do. " 
While the souls of men are dying, 

And the Master calls for you. 
Take the task He gives you gladly, 

Let His w^ork your pleasure be : 
Answer quickly when He calleth : 

"Here am I, send me, send me!" 

REV, DR. MARCH. 



AN EVENING PRAYER. 

''Let my prayer be set forth 'before thee as incense, and the 
lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice."— Ps. cxli. 2. 

I COME to Thee to-night, 
In my lone closet, where no eye can see, 



158 AN EVENING TRAYER. 

And dare to crave an interview with Thee, 
Father of love and light. 

Softly the moonbeams shine 
On the still branches of the shadowy trees, 
While all sweet sounds of evening on the 
breeze, 

Steal through the slumbering vine. 

Thou gav'st the calm repose 
That rests on all — the air, the bird, the flower, 
The human spirit in its weary hour — 

Now at the day's bright close. 

'Tis Nature's time for i^rayer; 
The silent praises of the glorious sky. 
And the earth's orisons profound and high, 

To Heaven their breathings bear. 

With them my soul would bend. 
In humble reverence at Thy holy throne, 
Trusting the merits of Thy Son alone, 

Thy sceptre to extend. 

If I this day have striven 
With Thy blest spirit, or have bowed the knee 
To aught of earth in weak idolatry, 

I pray to be forgiven. 

If in my heart has been 
An unforgiving thought, or word, or look, 
Though deep the malice which I scarce could 
brook 

Wash me from this dark sin. 



AN EVENING PRAYER. 159 

If I have turned away 
From grief or suffering which I might relieve, 
Careless the ' ' cup of water " e'en to give, 

Forgive me, Lord, I pray — 

And teach me how to feel 
My sinful wanderings with a deeper smart. 
And more of mercy and of grace impart. 

My sinfulness to heal. 

Father, my soul would be 
Pure as the drops of eve's unsullied dew; 
And as the stars whose nightly course is true, 

So would I be to Thee. 

Nor for myself alone. 
Would I these blessings of Thy love implore, 
But for each penitent the wide earth o'er. 

Whom Thou hast called Thine own. 

And for my heart's best friends, 
Whose steadfast kindness o'er my painful years, 
Has watched to soothe affliction's griefs and 

My warmest prayer ascends. [tears, 

Should o'er their path decline 
The light of gladness, or of hope or health, 
Be Thou their solace and their joy and wealth. 

As they have long been mine. 

And one— O Father! guide 
The youthful traveler in the dangerous hour ; 
Save him from evil and temptation's power, 

And keep him near Thy side. 



160 ONE BODY 11^ CHRIST. 

Watch o'er his couch to-night, 
And draw him sweetly by the cords of love 
To blest communion with Thee, far above 

Earth's withering cares and blight, 

And now, O Father ! take 
The heart I cast with humble faith on Thee, 
And cleanse its depth from each impurity, 

For my Redeemer's sake. 

E. L. E. 



ONE BODY IN CHRIST. 

" And every one members one of another. The eye cannot say 
unto the hand, I have no need of thee ; nor again the head to the 
feet, I have no need of you."— 1 Cor. xii. 21. 

What tho' the gifts and calling of the Lord 
Differ in those who live upon His word. 
Yet the same spirit animates the frame ; 
One is the Head, and Jesus is His name. 
Jesus, the Head, who now enthroned on high, 
Has, for His own, of gifts a rich supply. 

Of gifts and graces, which from heaven distill 
On each, on all proxoortioned to His will ; 
For oh, the Church is one — one in the Heart 
Of Him Avho feels, who cares for every part ; 
To whom each member's wants are fully known; 
Who makes each sorrow as each joy is his own. 

Tho' not the Head, yet should each member be 
As sympathetic Avith the Church as He ; — 
One belt of love should girdle all around; 
Within that belt no palsied nerve be found. 



O^'E BODY IX CHRIST. 161 

Por every gift and grace His hands bestow, 
Is breathed in love, to make the body grow. 

To THESE He gives the power to preach the 
WORD ; 

On those the skill to teach is largely poured ; 

One knows the art to mix the oil and wine, 

That healing art — that alchemy divine. 

The "son of Thunder" speaks with trumpet- 
voice ; 

Of "consolation," whispers "Rise — Rejoice!" 

Not all apostles, prophets, elders, scribes ; 
But each the spirit of the whole imbibes ; 
In faith's proportion seeks to act his part. 
And Avhat he CAX he does, with earnest heart. 
Is he the haxd? he ministers with skill; 
The foot? he runs to do the Master's will. 

Has he the searching eye? he sees for all — 
Or ear? He listens for the midnight call. 
Has he a tongue to speak in words of fire ? 
Or is he skilled to sweep the sacred lyre ? 
Each word he utters is for all to hear ; 
Each minstrel-note the Bride of Christ to cheer. 

For oh, that Bride — the body is but one! 
One with the Head — His love the circling zone ; 
Each living member by the Spirit prized, 
Into our body blended and baptized. 
Then say not, brother, ' ' I am not the eye, 
What aid have I to tender or supply?" 

Or "I am not the Hand— the Foot— the Ear." 
Whatever thou art, to Jesus thou art dear; 
11 



163 ONE BODY IN CHRIST. 

Whate'er thou art, the Church has need of thee, 
Hast thou no gift? Who gave that bending 

knee? 
Who told thee of the lonely closet, where 
Thy God, "who sees in secret, answers prayer?" 

" Go, shut thy door upon thee." Ask the Lord 
To pour His blessings on the pastor's word — 
To touch, with living coals, His herald's tongue ; 
Waken the dead to hear the Angel's song. 
Ask him to own each gift to others given ; 
Unheard below thy voice can reach to Heaven. 

But hast thou ne'er a gift to use for Him? 
Art thou, indeed, nor Eye, nor Ear, nor Limb? 
Sure there are those still weaker than thou art, 
Too young, too feeble yet, to bear a part 
In the great household duties, or its cares ; 
Lambs, whom the Shepherd in His bosom bears. 

Lovest thou me? This is the boon I ask, — 
Feed thou my lambs. Be this thy w^elcome task, 
My under shejDherd ; nurture kind to prove 
For me, for mine, thy faithfulness and love. 
This is the gift divine to loved ones given,— 
To train the Church's babes for seats in heaven. 

Then say not thou, "There is no place for me — 
No niche to fill in God's own family. " 
Reserve all gifts — for all are from above, 
But covet earnestly the gift of love. 
Love for the risen Head — the Lamb who died, 
The Shepherd King — the Saviour crucified. 



THE PREACHER. 163 

Love to each member of the blood-bought flock — • 
The Church foundationed on the Uving Rock ; — 
Love for a dying world — for friend, for foe — 
For all who care not Jesus' love to know; 
Love — tenderest love for those the Shepherd 

blessed; — 
Caress thou them. Be thou by Him caressed. 



THE PREACHER. 

" The servant of the Lord must not strive ; but be gentle unto 
all men, apt to teach, patient ; in meekness instructing those that 
oppose themselves ; if God peradventurc will give them repent- 
ance to the acknowledging of the truth."— 2 Tim. ii. 24, 25. 

He took a shaft both strong and straight, 
A shaft he had polished with labor great. 

He winged it with sweet eloquence, 
With learning, and with subtle sense. 

Boldly he drew, and he aimed with care, 
But it wounded only the idle air. 

A second he took, both straight and strong, 
Winged with a passionate sense of Avrong. 

He drew it stoutly, and aimed it true ; 
The mark he aimed at was plain to view. 

Swift it fled, yet it lighted wide ; 

For it touched on a rock, and it swerved aside. 

He reached his hand, and took from above 
A slender arrow, barbed with love. 



lOi THE I.OST CHLLD. 

He aimed it with but little art, 

Yet it touched, and wounded a human heart. 

His last, his lightest, was winged with prayer, 
And he shot it forth through the yielding air. 

No careful aim the preacher took, 

For he turned to heaven his upw^ard look. 

Yet it pierced a heart both hard and proud, 
The hardest heart in all the crowd. 

E. G. 



THE LOST CHILD. 

" Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in lioaven, 
that one of these little ones should perish."— Matt, xviii. 14. 

The night comes in, and the storm is wild, 
There's a biting blast and a driving sleet. 
And up and down each lonely street 

The criers call, "Lost child! lost child!" 

What ! a little one this bitter night 
Alo7ie and lost in this howling storm? 

O God ! be merciful, we pray, 
And shield the tender form. 

Speed, Sliced thee, rider! scream the cry! 

He may be frozen and crushed and dead \ 
A mother w^aits for her laughing boy ; 

And canst thou take her a corpse instead? 

Speed, speed thee, rider! and mark the print 
Of little feet across the sno-vv; 



THE LOST CHIIJ). 165 

And call the fathers from every house 
Upon your search to go. 

And while ye seek, let a louder voice, 
One that the whole wide world can hear, 

Break out above the howling storm 
In tones most thrilling, loud, and clear. 

Lost in the stormy night of sin. 

An orphan, the child of his mother's vow. 
'Tis years and years since he wandered away; 

Christians, turn out and seek for him now! 

Lost from a mother one sunny day, 

A little girl with a blue dove-eye ; 
She hath lost her way to heaven, and now 

She hath fallen in woe to die. 

Lost from the pasture many a lamb 

That wandered away when shepherds did 
sleep : 

x'Vnd now they are roving, God onli/'knows where ; 
Re only can hear their shivering bleat. 

Lost, lost ! and the night drifts in — 
Children more than you'll ever find. 

Turn out, turn out ! and with pity seek 
And bring them in from the stonn and the 
wind. 

Perchance your little ones are gone. 

And their feet will never turn back again. 
Haste, father, haste, and follow their track ! 

Mark every spot where thev have been : 



166 THE END. 

And if ye find them, thank your God ; 

For many a mother is waiUng to-night 
For a birdUng lost that she'll never find, 

Not even in heaveii's morning light. 



THE END. 

'• For I am now ready to be oflered, and the time of my depart- 
ure is at hand. I have fought a good fight ; I have finished my 
course ; I have kept the faith."— 2 Tim. iv. 6, 7. 

WouiiD you live your whole life over, 

From the rosy gate of dawn 
To where through the bars of sunset 

The last golden ray has gone? 
Would you watch fair flowers unfolding? 

Clasp them till they fade and die ? 
Grather all the friends around you 

That you loved in days gone by? 

Would you feel the heat of noon-day 

Once more on your throbbing brow? 
Bear again the cross of labor 

'Neath which many mortals bow? 
Would you tread the thorny pathway, 

Where your foot-prints linger yet? 
Drink again each bitter chalice 

That has filled you Avith regret? 

Thank God! Now the twilight deepens; 

Soon the holy stars will rise ; 
Offer Ave our heart's oblation 

At this hour of sacrifice. 



LEAN HARD. 167 

We no inoro can bear the burden, 
We can tread the path no more ; 

Earthly joy and earthly sorrow, 
Strangely blended — now are o'er. 

Though the way is dark and lonely 

It leads on to rest and peace ; 
We shall find our buried treasures 

When our pilgrimage shall cease- 
Not in vain the grief and trial 

Nor the vanished years in vain. 
If by all their varied teachings 

We eternal life can gain. 

KATE CAMEBOX. 



^^LE AN HARD." 

" Cast Ihy burdeu upon tlie LorcL, and he shall sustain thee."— 
Ps. Iv. 22. 

Child of my love, *' Leax Hard," 
And let me feel the pressure of thy care. 
I know thy burden, child— I shaped it. 
Poised it in My own hand, made no proportion 
In its weight to thine unaided strength. 
Before ever I laid it on I said, 
^' I shall be ever near, and while she leans on 
This burden shall be Mine, not hers, [Me 

So shall I keep my child within the circling arms 
Of Mine own love." Here lay it down, nor fear 
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds 
The government of worlds. Yet closer come, 
Thou art not near enough; I would embrace 
thy care, 



168 VINEYARD LABORERS. 

So I miglit feel My child reposing on My heart : 
Thou lovest Me? I doubt it not; 
Then loving Me, "Lean Hard." 



VINEYARD LABORERS. 

" And ne said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert 
place, ar-d rest a wtiile."— Makk vi. 31. 

ToiLiNa among the vines one day, 
In the Master's vineyard sweet, 

I saw my sister bow her head, 
'Neath the burden and the heat. 

She was not weary of working. 
For she loved the Master well ; 

And she thought of the blessed hour 
When the shades of evening fell. 

She portioned a task out bravely, 
And thought, ' ' He would have it so ;" 

Then the Master stood beside her, 
And His voice was soft and low 

" I have not need of thee to-day 
In the vineyard so fair and sweet ;" 

And she whispered low, ' ' My Master, 
Let Him do what seemeth meet." 

But her heart was sad and heavy. 
As she left her work that day; 

She knew not where she was going, 
Or aught of that untried way. 



TRIALS OF THE WORLD. 169 

He led lier forth to the desert, 

And He spoke to her of rest ; 
Then she smiled, and Avhispered gladly, 

" O Master, Thy way is best!" 

The burning blast of the desert 

Made her quiver and start with pain ; 

She looked in His face for comfort, 
Nor shrank from that dreary plain. 

I watch for my sister sadly ; 

Will she come again to me? 
He hath said that where He dwelleth 

There shall His servant be. 

Perhaps He will bring her, rested 
And meet for some higher toil. 

To work once more in the vineyard. 
Or reap the fruit of the soil. 

But perhaps He will lead her onward, 

To His glory and His rest ; 
I know she will smile and whisper, 

" Master, Thy way is best!" 



"TRIALS OF THE WORLD." 

" In tbe world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good cheer 
I have overcome the world."— John xvi. 33. 

The world is fall of suffering; along the mourn 

ful air 
The notes of sad complaining are crying every 

where ; 



170 TRIALS OF THE WORLD. 

Love shieldeth not its idols from death's un- 
sparing darts, 

And the whole wide world is teeming with 
crushed and broken hearts. 

Yet were no clouds of sorrow along our path- 
way driven, 

This world would be a Paradise we scarce would 
change for Heaven ; 

The erring heart to purify, is sent the chasten- 
ing rod. 

To discipline the spirit and draw it nigh to God. 

To raise the heart to Heaven with a meek and 

holy trust, 
And silence the repinings that; have bound it 

to the dust ; 
"We may not see the purpose why our hearts are 

pierced and riven, 
Yet, Avith a full, undoubting trust, let us still 

look up to Heaven. 

This life is full of trials, yet we know that One 

above 
Looks ever down upon us with sympathy and 

love, 
And pitieth our infirmities, though others may 

deride, 
Fo7' the heart hath not a sorroiv with which He 

was not tried. 

Ah! let us then be patient, be meek, and mur- 
mur not. 

Though clouds and gloom and shadows sur- 
round our earthly lot ; 



''feed my lambs." 171 

And when the heart repineth think of the Holy- 
One, 

Who meekly bore and suffered, to win for us a 
crown, 

We know that life has mysteries, for God hath 
not designed 

To shed His great omniscience on the lowly 
finite mind ; 

But when the soul is ransomed, and the fount 
of life unsealed. 

The mind shall grasp infinity, and all will be re- 
vealed. 

Then let us place the anchor of our confidence 
and trust 

On the might of the Creator, the Omnipotent 
and Just, 

Whose will we may not question, nor His hid- 
den motive tell. 

Yet rest in his assurance that He ' ' doeth all 
things Avell." 



"FEED MY LAMBS." 

" What man of yon, having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of 
them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness and 
wo after that which was lost, until he find it."— Luke xv. 4. 

Hark ! the gentle Shepherd speaking 

In His tones of tender love, 
" Feed my lambs," oh! leave not any, 

Who may reach My fold above. 

" Feed my lambs," not only children 
Who in happy homes abide, 



172 "feed my lambs." 

Other lambs for whom I've suffered 
Miss I sadly from my side. 

Sinful, wretched little children, 

Wandering through the streets and lanes, 
Wishing, weeping in their sorrow, 

Suffering sore with hunger-pains. 

Mouths that utter only curses, 
Hands upraised to strike and steal, 

O'er them how my spirit yearneth. 
Even such my grace can heal. 

Lips that never sing my praises, 

Feet that ever aimless stray. 
Ears too deaf to hear me calling. 
Knees that never kneel to pray! 

Even such I died to ransom, 

Even such my lambs I call, 
Stand ye gazing while they perish? 

Haste to find and gather all. 

Tell them then of Calvary's story. 
Guide their tender steps to Me : 

Saved from Satan's snares forever,"' 
They shall all my glory see. 

' ' Feed Thy lambs ?" Yes ! Heavenly Shepherd, 
Gladly we obey Thy call, 
To the little lambs we hasten, 
Strive to find and gather all? 



AFTER THE DARKNESS — MGHT I 173 

AFTER THE DARKNESS -LIGHT ! 

" The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more 
and more unto the perfect day."— Pkov. iv. 18. 

After the darkness — light! 

Out of the evil — good ! 
From foulest wrong, upriseth Right — 

Sin-cleansed, O Christ, in blood ! 

What tho' the billows roll? 

What tho' the waves sweep o'er? 
The tempest, Lord, Thou canst control, 

And guide us safe to shore ! 

O doubting heart, be still! 

O fainting soul, be brave ! 
By devious ways works He His will — 

Omnipotent to save ! 

Truth lives :— for this Christ died ; — 
And, e'en tho' crushed to earth, 

Shall rise again, re-glorified. 
Child of immortal birth ! 

Then lag not, weary feet, 
Tho' rocks loom mountain high ; 

Press bravely on — for, fair and sweet 
Beyond, the valleys lie ! 

Dread not the battle hour. 

Move on to meet the foe ! 
Heaven grants the hero's arm its power; 

Heaven guides the patriot's blow I 



174 BURY THY SORROW. 

Tho' dark the dun clouds roll — 
Tlio' deadly fierce the fray — 

God can the battle storm control, 
And bid the billows stay ! 

O doubting heart, be still ! 

O fainting soul, be brave ! 
By devious ways works He His will — 

Omnipotent to save I 

GRACE APl'LETOIM^. 



BURY THY SORROW. 

" Surely He hath borne onr griefs and carried our sorrowB.'"- 
Is. liii. 4. 

Bury thy sorrow; 

The world hath its share ; 
Bury it deeply, 

Hide it with care. 

Think of it calmly, 

When curtained by night, 

Tell it to Jesus, 
And all will be right. 

Tell it to Jesus, 

He knoweth thy grief ; 
Tell it to Jesus, 

He'll send thee relief. 

Gather the sunlight 

Aglow on thy way ; 
Gather the moonbeams, 

Each soft, silver ray. 



THIXE. . 175 



Hearts grow aweary 
With heavier woe, 

Droop 'mid the darkness ; 
Go, comfort them, go ! 

Bury thy sorrow; 

Let others be blest ; 
Give them the sunshine ; 

Tell Jesus the rest. 



THINE. 

"And he tiiniecl him unto his disciples, and said privately, 
Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see."— Lxikk 
X. S3. 

Little to me it matters 

Whither my feet are led, 
If in the burning desert 

Or the pastures green I'm fed, — 
Whether the storm or sunshine 

Be in the path I take ; 
For my hand is in Thine, my- Father; 

Thou wilt not Thy child forsake. 

And it shall not cause me sorrow. 

Though the path be steep and rough ; 
I am Thine, Thine own for ever. 

And that shaU be joy enough. 
Thine is the care, my Father — 

The work of providing Thine ; 
Only the trust, and pleasure. 

And the calm content, are mine. 



176 IF WE KNEW. 

Neither shall I be anxious 

For the dear ones whom I love : 
From Thee they are never absent — 

Thou reachest them from above ; 
And, Lord, I know they are dearer 

To Thee than they are to me. 
So I only ask Thee to take them, 

And do as it pleases Thee. 

But others are only strangers. 

And know not the perfect peace 
Of those who beneath Thy banner 

Are finding their sorrows cease. 
They are away in the darkness, 

In the gloomy and silent night ; 
Oh, Father, receive them also, 

And welcome them into the light. 

So, then, it will not matter, 

Whatever the future be ; 
Gladly we take our journey. 

Leaving the rest to Thee ; 
And in darkness, or gloom, or tempest, 

Still shall the best light shine. 
And the joy shall come to our spirits ; 

For^ Father, we all are Thine. 

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM. 



IF WE KNEW. 

'^For BOW we f?ec through a glass, darkly; but then, face to 
face."—! Cor, xiii. 12. 

If we knew the woe and heart-ache. 
Waiting for us, down the road, 



IF WE KNEW. 177 

If our lix)S could, taste the wormwood, 
If our backs could feel the load ; 

Would we waste to-day in wishing 
For a time that ne'er can be ; 

Would we wait in such impatience 
For our ships to come from sea? 

If we knew the baby fingers 

Pressed against the window pane, 
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow — 

Never trouble us again — 
Would the bright eyes of our darling 

Catch the frown upon our brow? 
Would the prints of rosy fingers 

Vex us then as they do now? 

Ah, these little ice-cold fingers. 

How they point our memories back 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn along our backward track ! 
How those little hands remind us. 

As in snowy grace they lie, 
Not to scatter thorns — but roses — 

For our reaping by-and-by ! 

Strange wc never prize the music 

Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown ; 
Strange that we should slight the violets 

Till the lovely flowers are gone ; 
Strange that summer skies and sunshine 

Never seem one-half so fair 
As when the wintei^'s snowy pinions 

Shako their white down in the air! 



178 THE EFFICACY OF FAITH. 

Lips from Avliicli the seal of silence 

None but God can roll away, 
Never blossomed in such beauty 

As adorns the mouth to-dr.y ; 
And sweet words that freight our memory 

With their beautiful perfume, 
Come to us in sweeter accents 

Through the portals of the tomb. 

Let us gather up the sunbeams, 

Lying all along our path ; 
Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff ; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

in the blessing of to-day ; 
With a patient hand removing 

All the briers from out the way. 



THE EFFICACY OF FAITH. 

"And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thoxi, bid 
me come unto thee on the water. And he said, Come. And 
when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the 
water to go to Jesus." — Matt. xlv. 28, 29. 

The waves were dashing loud and high, 

My child looked on with me ; 
"Father," she cried, "why may not I 
Trust God, and walk the sea? 

" Was it not lack of faith alone 

That made the apostle sink? 
By faith, therefore, it may be done ; 

Father, what should I think?" 



'tis good to live. 179 

The Lord bade Peter go, my child ; 

And should He thee command, 
Thy feet Avould on these waters Avild 

Be firm as on the sand. 

But life has storms more awful yet. 

Waves rougher than yon sea ; 
Then do not thou in these forget 

That Jesus is Avith thee. 

Care not what others ha\^ to do, 

What may be or has been ; 
But in the path God calls thee go. 

And use thy faith therein. 

HINDS. 



'TIS GOOD TO LIVE. 

" In everything give thanks ; for this is the will of God in 
Christ Jesus concerning you."— 1 Thess. v. 18. 

I THANK thee, Father, that I live ! 

I thank thee for these gifts of thine — 

For bending skies of heavenly blue 

And stars divine ; 
For this green earth, where mild sweet airs, 
Like forest spirits, joyous stray, 
For winding streams, and trees, and flowers 

Beside its way. 

But more I thank Thee for true hearts, 
That bear sweet gifts of love to me : 
Wliom mine enfolds and feels that this 
Is love of thee I 



180 "why DRI?fK YOU?" 

Drear hours I know will darkly come, 
November days of cloud and rain ; 
But thus must hearts, like wintiy fields. 
Revive again! 

I thank thee, Father, that I live ! 
Tho' wailings fill this earth of Thine ; 
To labor for Thy suffering ones 

Is joy divine. 
And even I, though weak and poor, 
M^iy bear some word of life from thee ; 
A beam of hope may reach some heart, 

E'en through me ! 

A]N^N PRESTON. 



WHY DRINK YOU?" 



'• Therefore, bear now this, thou afflicted, and drunken, but not 
with wine, thus saith thy Lord the Lord, and thy God that plcad- 
etb the cause of his people, Behold, I have talien out of thine hand 
the cup of trembling, even the dregs of the cup of my fury ; thou 
shalt no more drink it again."— Is. li. 21, 22. 



Why drink you still the bitter wine 
Of life's past vintage ; lift your eyes, 
Behold empurpling all the skies 
The ripened clusters shine. 

Sweet rills of gladness sparkling flow 
And love perfumes tlie inspiring draught, 
While peace and joy their odors waft, 
To fill your cup below. 



IN THE SILEXT MIDNIGHT WATCHES. 181 

O drink, and let your life be blest 
With all the fullness God has given, 
With all the foretaste of His heaven, 
With all His wondrous rest. 

HELEN M. BRADLEY. 



IN THE SILENT MIDNIGHT WATCHES. 

" Behold, I staud at the door and knock ; if any man hear my 
voice and open the door, I will come in to hiai, and will sup with 
him, and he with me."— Kev. iii. 20. 

In the silent midnight watches, 

List — thy bosom's door; 
How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh, 

Knocketh evermore! 
Say not 'tis thy pulse's beating, 

'Tis thy heart of sin ; 
'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth, 

"Rise and let me inl^' 

Death comes down Avitli equal footstep. 

To the hall and hut ; 
Think you Death will stand a-knocking 

When the door is shut? 
Jesus waiteth, waiteth, waiteth. 

But thy door is fast ; 
Grieved away thy Saviour goeth ; 

Death breaks in at last. 

Then 'tis thine to stand entreating 

Christ to let thee in ; 
At the gate of heaven beating, 

Wailing for thv sin, 



182 BE KIND TO ONE ANOTHER. 

Nay, alas ! thou foolish virgin, 

Hast thou then forgot? 
Jesus waited long to know thee, 

Now he knows thee not ! 

A. CLEVELAND COXE. 



BE KIND TO ONE ANOTHER. 



" My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue 
bnt in deed and in truth.'"—! John iii. 18. 



Be kind to one another; 

This is a world of care ; 
And there's enough of needful woe 

For every one to bear; 
But if you ease the burden 

That weighs another down, 
That work of Christian charity 

Will lighten half your own. 

Be kind to one another; 

Scatter the seeds of love 
Wide o'er the field of hearts, and rich 

The harvest wealth will prove — 
A wealth more truly precious 

Than aught beneath the sun. 
Which India's diamonds could not buy, 

And yet how lightly won. 

Be kind to one another; 

Not to the good alone — 
E'en to the cold and selfish heart 

Let deeds of love be shown. 



BEHOLD, THOU ART THERE. 183 

So shall ye be His children 

AVho rains his gifts on all, 
And even upon the thankless ones 

Bids his bright sunbeams fall. 



BEHOLD, THOU ART THERE. 

" If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the utter- 
most parts of the sea ; even there shall thy hand lead me and thy 
riglit hand shall hold me.""— Ps. cxxxis. 9. 10. 

In the midst of the mighty city 

And the trampling of many feet. 
In the midst of the looks of strangers 

Crowding the busy street, 
There comes the sound of a whisper 

To the listening, gladdened ear; 
And Thy children are not lonely. 

For they know that Thou art near. 

In the midst of the silent forest. 

Unstirred by a passing breeze, 
Where the autumn has stripped the branches 

Of the cold and barren trees. 
Thou comest with noiseless footstep ; 

And those who have cried to Thee 
Can feel Thy presence beside them, 

Though they have not eyes to see. 

In the peaceful abode of pleasure. 
Where the happy love to throng, 

Thou comest with smile benignant, 
And listenest to the song. 



184 SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD. 

In the darkened home of weeping, 
Where the heart is sick and sad, 

Thou comest with words of comfort, 
Making the weary glad. 

Thou comest on wings of morning 

Over the land and sea, 
On the mountains and in the valleys, 

Wherever Thy children be ; 
Tliou com'st with the night's dark shadows, 

And stay'st through the noon of day : 
And wherever Thy pilgrims travel 

Thou dost preserve their way. 

We give to Thee thanks, O Father, 

That we never can be alone ; 
That our lives are so well love-guarded, 

And that Thou dost attend Thine own; 
Stay with us, Lord, forever. 

In brighter or darker days. 
Till we meet in the many mansions, 

Singing Thine endless praise. 

MARIANNE FiVRNINGHAM. 



SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD. 

" She hath done what she could : she is come aforehaud to 
anoint my hody to the hurying."— Mark siv. 8. 

"She hath done what she could!" Oh, how 
sweet 

Did those words of encouragement prove 
To that meek one, who knelt at His feet, 

And gratefully poured forth her love I 



AVHY FEAR FOR THY BROTHER! 185 

"She hath done what she could!" Yes, the 
proud 

Might scornfully say what they thought ; 
But the Saviour reproved them aloud, 

And smiled on the offering she brought. 

" She hath done what she could!" Can this be 

Applied to my labors of love? 
Would the Saviour say thus unto me, 

If He spoke from His bright throne above? 

"She hath done what she could!" Ah, with 
shame, 

I remember how little I've tried 
To spread the sweet sound of His name, 

Who freely for sinners hath died. 

" She hath done what she could !" Let me now 
Redeem the bright hours which are flown : 

May the talent, Lord, Thou dost bestow 
Be spent in Thy service alone. 

" She hath done what she could!" Shall I fear 
If the world its reproaches begin? 

No ! its censures I gladly will bear, 
If Thy smile and approval I win. 



WHY FEAR FOR THY BROTHER! . 

" Peter, seeing him, eaitli to Jesus, Lord, and wliat shall this 
man do ? 

" Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what 
is that to thee ? Follow thou me."— John xxi. 21, 22. 

Why fear for thy brother? 
Thy work and none other 



ISG WHY FEAR FOR THY BROTHER I 

Is pressing upon thee to-day; 
Ere thou seek to conduct him, 
To guide or instruct him, 

Be sure thou knowest the way. 

Thou but poorly discernest 
How deep and how earnest 

His love for his Saviour and Lord ; 
The founts of his feeling 
Await their unsealing, 

Not alone in the fullness of words. 

The path he is treading 
Unseen, may be leading 

Through fresh fields of favor divine ; 
His eye may be clearer. 
His feet may be nearer 

The city celestial, than thine. 

Ah ! little thou knowest 
How largely thou owest 

The stature to which thou hast grown, 
To his hushed prayers ascending 
• And fervently blending 

With thine at the heavenly throne. 

Though he labor obscurely, , 
If singly and purely 

He strive but to honor his Lord, 
His burden shall lighten, 
His pathway shall brighten. 

In the smile of his Master's reward. 

Thy work is before thee. 

Soon, soon shall come o'er thee, 



THE teacher's DREAM. 187 

The gathering shades of the night. 
Art thou wiUing and ready? 
Thy strong hand and steady? 

Thine armor all burnished and bright? 



THE TEACHER'S DREAM. 

" For God is not unrighteous, to forget your work and labor of 
love, whicli ye have showed toward his name, in that ye have 
ministered unto the saints, and do minister."— Heb. vi. 10 

Aslant fell the beams of the setting sun 
Through the school-room windows at Durham 
Place ; 
The last little urchin — his lessons done, 
And his good-night said — had gone, to run 
His merry homeward race. 

At the desk, with her toil-worn head bowed low 
On her fevered hands, a teacher sate, 

Making no movement as if to go. 

Though round her fell the broad sunset's glow, 
And the hour was waxing late. 

The light Avind strayed through the open door. 

And lovingly lifted the loosened hair 
That fell round a forehead where time had mad<3 
Some footprints, but left a sweet, pensive shade, 
That rendered it still more fair. 

She had fallen asleep ; and in her dream 
The narrow walls of the meagre room 
Had dropped away, and the sunset's gleam 
Fell on a fair bower, and made it seem 
All flooded with rosy bloom. 



188 THE teacher's dream. 

And for the shrill sound of A, B, C, 

That had echoed so late on her tortured ear, 
The notes of the woodland birds heard she, 
And the lapse of waters, as dreamily 
They coursed through a valley near. 

And she knev/not whence came the sense of rest 

That so sweetly over her si)irit came, 
Till a gentle presence was manifest, 
A gentle hand her forehead pressed, 
And a soft voice called her name. 

It bade her come, and she followed on, 

Scarce knowing whether she waked or 
dreamed, 
To where there was raised a sylvan throne, 
And the form of Him who sat thereon, 
Like the Man of Sorrows seemed. 

And many a loving one came and stood 

Around the Master, each to tell 
How he had illumined some dark abode, 
Or lightened some pilgrim's heavy load, 

For the Lord he loved so well. 

When His sweet "Well done" was bestowed 
on all, 

And each from His presence on had passed, 
Trembling she came at the Master's call, 
And prone at His feet was fain to fall. 

The weakest, and the last. 

But gently He raised her, and bade her say 
What she to-day for her Lord had done ; 



THE teacher's DREAM. 189 

" Master," slie cried, ''though I love alway, 
Naught have I done for Thee to-day. 
From rise to set of sun. 

" I teach the Uttle ones day by day, 

And they cUng to me with a fondness strange. 
.[ teach them knowledge, and guide their play, 
And strive that never in harmful way 
Their little feet may range. 

" But for Thy service I find no place. 

No deeds of love have I to tell. 
Though with tears I mourn my wasted days, 
And long to toil in the broad highways, 

For the Lord I love so well. 

*' I see the harvest field gleaming white, 

And heavy with sheaves which I may not reap ; 
I see fair flowerets touched Avith blight, 
I see Wrong triumphing over Right, 
And can only look and weep." 

Then a wondrous smile lit the Master's face, 

A smile that shone down to her very heart ; 
And these were His words : ' ' Dear child of grace I 
Who toils and weeps in the humblest place, 
Hatli in My work a part ! 

' ' Fear not ! for thy toils the Master owns ; 

And precious to Him is thy ministry; 
Fear not!" and He spake in gentlest tones, 
' ' Who careth so well for the little ones, 

Hath even cared for Me." 

ROSE TEMPLE. 



190 DEATH. 



DEATH. 



" Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written 
Death is swallowed up in victory." — 1 Cor. xv. £4. 



Out of the shadows of sadness, 
Into the sunshine of gladness, 

Into the light of the blest ; 
Out of a land very dreary. 
Out of the world of the weary. 

Into the rapture of rest. 

Out of to-day's sin and sorrow, 
Into a blissful to-morrow, 

Into a day without gloom ; 
Out of a land filled with sighing — 
Land of the dead and the dying 

Into a land without tomb. 

Out of a life of commotion, 
Tempest-swept oft as the ocean, 

Dark with the wreck drifting o'er- 
Into a land calm and quiet ; 
Never a storm cometh nigh it — 

Never a wreck on its shore. 

Out of the land in whose bowers 
Perish and fade all the flowers — 

Out of the land of decay — 
Into the Eden where fairest 
Of flow'rets, and sweetest and rarest, 

Never shall wither away. 



THE DAY LABORER. 191 

Out of the world of the ailing, 

Thronged v/ith the anguished and wailing, 

Out of the Avorld of the sad ; 
Into the world that rejoices. 
World of bright visions and voices. 



Out of a life ever lornful, 
Out of a land ever mournful, 

Where in bleak exile we roam — 
Into a joy-land above us, 
Where there's a Father to love us — 

Into '' Our Home, Sweet Home." 



THE DAY LABORER. 



"In the morning sow tliy seed, and in the evening withhold 
not tblne liand: for thon Imowest not whether shall prosper, 
sither this or that, or whether they both shall he alike good." — 
ECCLES. xi. (5. 



Sow ye beside all waters, 

Where the dew of heaven may fall; 
Ye shall reap if ye be not weary, 

For the Spirit breathes o'er all. 
Sow, though the thorns may wound thce- 

One wore the thorns for thee ; 
And though the cold world scorn thee, 

Patient and hopeful be. 
Sow ye beside all waters, 

With a blessing and a prayer : 
Name Him whose hand upholds us, 

And Stnv thou everywhere. 



192 THE DAY LABORER. 

Sow, tliough tlie rock repel tliee, 

In its cold and sterile pride ; 
Some cleft there may be riven, 

Where the little seed may hide. 
Fear not, some will flourish ; 

And though the tares abound. 
Like the willows by the waters 

Will the scatter'd grain be found, 
Work while the daylight lasteth. 

Ere the shades of night come on; 
Ere the Lord of the vineyard cometh, 

And the laborer's work is done. 

Work ! in the wild waste places, 

Though none thy love may own, 
God guides the down of the thistle 

The wand'ring wind hath sown. 
Will Jesus chic\p thy weakness. 

Or call thy labor vain? 
The word that for Him thou bearest, 

Shall return to Him again. 
Oh ! — with thine heart in heaven. 

Thy strength — in thy Master's might. 
Till the wild waste places blossom 

In the warmth of a Saviour's light. 

Watch not the clouds above thee ; 

Let the whirlwind round thee sweep ; 
God may the seed-time give thee, 

But another's hand may reap. 
Have faith, though ne'er beholding 

The seed bursts from its tomb, 
Thou knoT/'st not Avhich may perish, 

Or what be spared to bloom, 



WATCH THOU IX ALL THINGS. 193 

Room on the narrov/est ridges 

The ripen' d grain will find, 
That the Lord of the harvest coming 

In the harvest sheaves may bind. 



WATCH THOU IN ALL THINGS. 

" But watch thou in all things : endure affliction, do the work of 
an evangelist, make full proof of thy ministry."— 2 Tijir. iv. 5. 

Be patient— life is very brief ; 

It passes quickly by, 
And if it prove a troubled scene, 

Beneath a stormy sky. 
It is but like a shaded night. 
That brings a morn of radiance bright. 

Be hopeful— cheerful faith will bring 

A living joy to thee. 
And make thy life a hymn of praise, 

From doubt and murmurs free : 
Whilst, like the sunbeams, thou wilt bless, 
And bring to others happiness. 

Be earnest — an immortal soul 

Should be a worker true ; 
Employ thy talents for thy God, 

And ever keep in view 
The judgment scene, the last great day, 
When heaven and earth shall pass away. 

Be holy — lot not sin's dark stain 
Thy spirit's Vv'hitoness dim ; 
13 



194 HARVEST. 

Keep close to Jesus, 'mid the world, 

And trust alone to him. 
So, 'midst thy business and thy rest 
Thou wilt be comforted and blest. 

Be prayerful — ask, and thou wilt have 

Strength equal to thy day; 
Prayer clapss the hand that guides the world ; 

O, make it then thy stay ! 
Ask largely, and thy God will be 
A kingly giver unto thee. 

Be ready — many fall around, 

Our loved ones disappear; 
We know not Avhen our call may come, 

Nor should we Avait in fear ; 
If ready, we can calmly rest, 
Living or dying, we are blest. 



HARVEST. 

'• Therefore, said, he unto them, The harvest truly Ib great, but 
the laborers are lew ; pray yc, tlierelore, the Lord of the harvest 
that he would send forth laborers into his harvest."— Luke x. 2. 

Come, let us go into the harvest-field, 
Where the reapers are binding the ripened 
grain. 

What wealth is this day to our eyes revealed, 
Scattered widely o'er hill and plain. 

Broad fields where the yellow grain waves in 
the breeze, 
Contrasting its gold with the dark tasseled 
corn; 



"out in the cold." 195 

Smiling Plenty the farmer with gladdened eyes 
sees, 
Pouring wealth from her bountiful horn. 

The loveliest time in all the glad year; 

When the laborer gains the reward of his toil, 
And the gladsome song of the reapers Ave hear, 

As they joyfully gather the spoil. 

The fields of life's harvest already are Avhite, 
The harvest is great but the laborers are few; 

The day is fast waning, and soon the dark night 
Will cover all things from our vieAV. 

O Lord of the harvest, permit me, I pray, 
In thy harvest of souls a toiler to be; 

And if I have tarried till late in the day. 
Let me still be a gleaner for Thee. 

EMMA ROBERTS. 



OUT IN THE COLD. 



" And it came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by 
the angels into Abraham's bosom."— Luke xvi. 22. 



With blue, cold hands, and stockingless feet. 
Wandered a child in the cheerless street ; 
Children were many, who, housed and fed, 
Lovingly nestled, dreaming in bed, 
Caroled their joy in a land of bliss, 
Without a thought or a care of this. 
They were warm in humanity's fold ; 
But this little child Avas out in the cold — 
Out in the cold. 



19G "out in the cold." 

Bleak blew the wind through the cheerless 

street, 
leashing along the merciless sleet, 
All furred and shawled, man, woman, and child, 
Hurried along, for the storm grew wild ; 
They could not bear the icicle blast, 
AVinter so rude on their pathway cast. 
Alas ! none pitied — no one consoled 
The little wanderer out in the cold — 
Out in the cold. 

She had no father — she had no mother, 
Sister none, and never a brother; 
They had passed on to star-worlds above, 
She remained here with nothing but love. 
iS'othing but love — O ! man did not know 
AVhat wealth of joy that child could bestow. 
So they went by, and worshiped their gold, 
Leaving the little one out in the cold — 
Out in the cold. 

Wandered she on till the shades of night 
Veiled her shivering form from sight ; 
Then, with her cold hands over her breast. 
She prayed to her Father in heaven for rest. 
When hours had fled, 'neath the world's dark 

frown, 
Hungered and chilled, she laid herself down — 
Lay down to rest, while the wealthy rolled 
In carriages past her, out in the cold- 
Out in the cold. 

Out in the cold, lo I an angel form 
Brought her white robes, that were rich and 
warm : 



"YE BID IT I\'OT TO ME." 197 

Out in the cold, on the sleeping child, 
The sainted face of a mother smiled ; 
A. sister pressed on her brow a kiss — 
Led her 'mid scenes of heavenly bliss ; 
And angels gathered into their fold 
That night, the little one out of the cold — 
Out of the cold. 



"YE DID IT NOT TO ME." 

"Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, 
Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not 
to me."— Matt. xsv. 45. 

I SAT and gazed upon my sunny home; 

All pleasant things were there — 
Bright things to look at, and sweet soothing 
sounds 

That came and went upon the perfumed air. 
The sunbeam glanced and quivered 

Through the many-colored pane, 
And the marble floor at the open door 

Mirrored it back again. 
The flowers blushed in beauty. 

The birds sang forth their glee : 
I looked and listened, and I thanked my Father 

That 'twas all for me. 
And then I thought of One who had been here. 

In days of yore, 
Wearily walking on the world He made. 
The Son of Man, and yet the Son of God, 

Desjjised and poor! 
I thought of Him when first His infant form 
Needed a resting-place, and thoiv. was noiie; 



198 "ye did it iv'ot to me." 

The King of Heaven was waiting to be housed-- 

Earth's dwellings had no room ! 
I thought of Him upon the mountain side, 

^Vlien all night long 
The silent stars looked down upon His loneli 
ness ; 
For Jesus had no home. 

I thought and thought, until my gushing heai t 
Groaned forth its longings — 
" Oh! had I been there, 
What tender ministry, what fostering care 
Wouldst Thou have known, 
Thou blessed One ! 
What kindly words I 
What thoughts and deeds of love !" 
The hot tears gathered fast : 
I laid me down and wept : 

Was it a breeze that stole into the room, 

So like a voice? 
That came quite close— close to my burning 
brow. 
And whisijered, " Why not noioP 
It came again ; I brushed the tears away, 
And as I bent my head down very low, 
I thought I heard Him say, 
" But ivUy not novrP 

"■ There is a doorway in a narrow street. 
And close beside that door a broken stair, 

And then a low, dark room. 

The room is bare ; 

But in a corner lies 



^'YE DID IT XOT TO ME." 199 

A worn-out form upon a hard straw bed, 
No pillow underneath his aching head, — 
A face grown wan with suffering, and a hand 
Scarce strong enough to reach the small dry crust 

That lies upon the chair : 

Go in — for I am there ! 
I have been waiting wearily in that cold room, 

Waiting long lonely hours. 

Waiting for thee to come. 

" There's a low quiet corner in a green church- 
yard. 
Where deep, sad shadows lie, 
And sound of passing feet goes seldom by : 

I want thee there. 
In that still place, beside a new-made grave, 
A Avoman has been weeping all day long, 
None marked her where she sate, 
And now 'tis getting late. 
And stars are coming out — 
Beautiful stars ! my stars 
That used to gaze on me at Olivet. 
The chill night dews arc creeping through her 

frame. 
She dares not venture back from whence she 
came : 
She needs a home I 
I called for thee, and waited. 
But thou didst not come. 
I want thy pitying tears, that fell just now 
Upon the jewelled slab, to fall uiDon her cheek; 

For tears can speak. 
Lay thy warm hand upon the fainting one. 
And leave me not to watch and weep alone. 



200 "ye did it ]vot to me." 

*' There is one seated near an open door, 
Where to and fro, all through the busy day, 

The sorrowing and the poor 

Have found their way. 

And now for very weariness 

His eyes are closed — 
Kind, earnest eyes, that have looked lovingly 
On many a ghastly spectacle of woe — 
Looked into depths where loathsome miseries 

lie, 
And never wept mere idle sympathy. 
The heavy hand has fallen by his side. 

The strong, brave hand 

That waited my command. 
And then did deadly battle with the foe ; 

That never flinched from any task 

To which I called : 

Were the way smooth or rough, 

My bidding was enough. 
Go in and look ; 
For tears have dropped upon the open book ! 

That heart is burdened. 
Burdened for my sake : 
Thou, in thy thoughtless case, will let it break ! 
'Twas on a summer's day, long years ago, 
I called two willing servants to my feet; 
I took them by the hand, and said to each, 
' I shed my blood for thee ; 

Lovest thou me ?' 

And then I gave Mm work, 

Large work within my fold. 

He had no earthly store 

Wherewith to feed the poor; 
It mattered not, I'd given thee my gold. 



"ye did it not to me." 201 

Where is it now? Look at that pallid brow, 

Sunk in its weary sleep : 

The furroAvs are too deep ; 
They tell the tale of many an anxious grief— 

Not Ms, but mine! 
Whence comes the wasting of that haggard 

The guilt is thine, [cheek? 

Ho gave me all his time, and strength, and 

health ; 
I took it, and then asked thee for thy. wealth — 
Thy given wealth! asked that it might be free, 
Held in thine open hand for him and me. 
Then came the years of conflict and of toil, 
The days of labor and the nights of prayer; 

Souls perishing in sin. 

Few hands to fetch them in ; 

The hungry to ba fed. 

The naked to be clothed. 

The outcast and the poor 

Gathering about my door. 
I wanted money, and I w^anted bread, 
I wanted all that willing hands could do; 
I wanted the quick ear and ready eye — 
Aye, and the deep true soul of sympathy : 
I wanted help, and then I called for thee, — 
I called and waited, and then called again : 
Oh! could it be that I should call in vain? 

I called and waited, 

x\nd thou didst not come !" 

I tried to hold my breath, and hear Him speak; 
But 'twas as though my throbbing heart must 

I could not lift my head, [break, 

I could not sigh; 



202 "ye did it is^ot to me." 

The crimson shame had burnt into my cheek *, 
I had no tears ; the very fount was dry. 
Oh ! i t was long, I can not tell how long, 

That strange, cold stillness ; 
But I felt that He was waiting there, 

Waiting for me to speak. 
I knelt upon the floor, and breathed His name. 
Then, struggling, one by one the faint words 
" Jesus, I thought I loved Thee : [came, 

I remember well 
That day when Thou didst hold 
My trembling fingers in Thy pierced hand, 
And take me for Thine own. 

And I did love Thee — 
This poor heart beat true ; 
It was no fancied echo, when the voice 
That spoke Thee mine 
Responded, I am Thine ! 
But O my Master! can I dare to tell, 
Thy faithless child has loved Thy gifts too well ! 
I looked on all things beautiful and rare — 
Looked on earth's flowers, 
And thought them very fair. 
I hid me from the rude and vulgar throng, 

And hoped it was Thy will 
That I might turn away from common men, 

And love Thee still. 
I dwelt among the pleasant sounds of life ; 
I did not like the turmoil and the strife 

To come too near : 
And Thou wast in the thickest battle-tide 
When Thou didst call Thy servant to Thy side ; 
But I was too far off. 
And so I did not hear. 



203 

*' My Lord! I will come nearer. I will take my 
Close to Thy feet. [seat 

I will cojp.e down where the gray shadows lie, 
And there I'll listen— listen every day 

To hear Thy voice ! 
It may be I must take a lower jjlace ; 
But let me have the shining of Thy face. 
It may be I must seek a humbler home ; 
Lot it be one where Thou wilt often come : 
Its door shall be upon the latch for Thee, 

And for the needy ones who claim 

An interest in Thy name ; 
And I will stand, and watch, and wait to greet 
The first faint echoes of Thy coming feet." 

c. p. 



"ONLY A LITTLE BROOK. ^ 



'• When thou passest throi:gh the waters, I will be with thee ; 
and through the rivers, they shall uot overflow thee."— Is. xliii. 2. 



The following incident is told concerning the death of a little 
girl, aged nine years. 

A little vt'hile before she died, as the sorrosving friends stood 
round her, watching the last movements of the gentle breath, the 
ki'.-t faint flattering of the little pulse, they became aware from 
broken words, that she shrank with natural dread from the un- 
known way that was opening before her. She had come to the 
borders of the mysterious river which separates us from the dim 
hereafter, and her timid feet seemed to hesitate and fear to stem 
the flood. But after a time her fears subsided, she grew calm, 
and ceased to talk about the long dark way, till at the very last 
she brightened suddenly, a smile of confidence and courage light- 
ened up her sweet face. " O. it is only a little brook V she cried, 
and so passed over to the heavenly shore. 

" OxLY a little brook!" — That swelling sea 
Dried uj) to this — so gently, tenderly 



204 "OXLY A LITTLE BROOK." 

The Shepherd kind his httle lamb led o'er; 
Only a child's step, and she reached the shore. 
A deep, dark sea she feared, and foreign land, 
A narrow stream she found, and angel hand, 

Ready to welcome to a land of flowers. 

The little child who feared to part from ours, 

How all things changed when she had clasped 

His hand ! 
There was no deep, dark sea, no foreign land; 
A brook to smile at when her feet had come 



The struggling faith within the little child, 
He saw, and lacking courage quick fulfilled; 
He bent as gracious to that infant's need. 
As when He heard a sinking Peter plead ; 
Beautiful lesson that such scene doth teach ! 
No timid hand in vain doth Jesus reach. 

So by all seas, on any Jordan's brink, 
If we but take His hand, its waves shall shrink. 
Instead of tears that stain, the smile of faith 
Shall light our faces by each stream of death ; 
For dying hopes a strength as great we crave, 
As we shall need, to look on our near grave. 

Faith's little brooks — as Shiloah's waters calm — 
And on the other side some fresh green palm, 
And fruit more sweet than any tasted yet 
Our lips so fevered with earth's pains to wet ; 
So shall it never fail to be, if, led 
By Jesus, without fear we tread. 

KATE MONTGOMERY. 



SAVE OSIL. 205 



SAVE ONE. 

" He which converteth the sinner from the error of his way, 
shall gave a soul from death, and shall hide a multitu'ile of sins." 
—James v. 20. 

Souls are perishing before thee, 

Save, save one ! 
It may be thy crown of glory, 

Save, save one ! 
From, the waves that would devour, 
From the raging lion's power, 
From destruction's fiery shower, 

Save, save one I 

Not in thy own strength confiding, 

Save, save one ! 
Faith and prayer thy eftbrts guiding, 

Save, save one ! 
None can e'er, unless possessing 
Heavenly aid and heavenly blessing, 
To the work of mercy pressing, 

Save e'en one ! 

Who the worth of souls can measure? 

Save, save one ! 
Who can count the priceless treasure? 

Save, save one ! 
Like the star shall shine forever 
Those who faithfully endeavor 
Dying sinners to deliver, 

Save, save one! 



206 god's taking. 

GOD'S TAKING. 

"For I reckon, that the siifTerings of this present time are not 
worthy to he compared with the glory that shall be revealed in 
us."— EoM. viii. 18. 

O Thou who never tak'st from Thy beloved, 

Except to give them more, 
When most is gone from our sweet earthly good, 

Then most Thou hast in store. 

We are too blind with tears, dear Lord, to count 

Thy garnered treasure true ; 
Our weary hearts are all too weak to mount 

To such a heavenly view. 

Our eyes rest on the empty places here ; 

We stand by open tombs ; 
And, gathering round our footstei^s year by year, 

Are ever-deepening glooms. 



Ease the most troubled heart, 
Teach the most faithless and perverse to sec, 
By Thy divinest art, 

How true Thy reckoning is ! "A little while," 

"These light afflictions " borne. 
And then — the hidden rapture of Thy smile 

In heaven's celestial morn ! 

The open treasure-house, our own domain, 

Rich in all goodly store ; 
All sad hours turned to joy — all loss to gain, 

And rest for evermore. 



"where hast thou glea^s^ed to-day?" 207 

No aching heart nor empty arms again, 

For through these passing hours, 
Safe in Thy home and free from every stain, 

Are Thv beloved and ours. 



"WHERE HAST THOU GLEANED 
TO-DAY?" 

" Where ha«t thou gleaned to-day ? and where wroughlest thou ?"* 
—Ruth ii, 19. 

Hast thou wandered far from the " reapers," 
In search of perfume and flowers? 

Hast thou lingered by murmuring waters, 
Or slept in the vine-wreathed bowers? 

Will thy measure of worthless blossoms, 

Half hidden by withering leaves. 
Be a fitting gift for the Master, 

In place of the golden sheaves? 

Hast thou climbed the towering mountain, 

With its dazzling robe of light, 
And sought for the fruits of the harvest. 

On its cold and barren height ? 
The paeans of Fame die in echoes, 

And its thorny crowns bring pain ; 
But not on the mountain's summit 

Canst thou gather the ripening grain. 

Hast thou sighed for power and station, 

And sought in the hidden mine 
For the glittering heaps of treasures 

That there in the darkness shine ? 



20S "where hast thou gleajstkd to-day?" 

Ah I not the wealth of the Indies 

Must the toiling reaper bring, 
But the " gleaning " of whitened harvest, 

For the Master's offering. 

Hast thou wandered far into marshes, 

Where the poisonous waters flow. 
Where the air is heavy with vapors, 

And the deadly nightshades grow? 
Is thy pure brow clouded with shadows, 

Thy sandals defiled with clay? 
In fields of sin and temptation 

Alas! hast thou "gleaned " to-day? 

Or hast thou brought joy to the reaper. 

And strength to the sinking heart? 
Extended a hand to the helpless, 

Bade the erring in peace depart? 
Hast thou self and its pleasures forgotten 

While seeking thy neighbor to bless? 
Hast thou crowned e'en the undeserving 

With thy heart's sweet tenderness? 

Reaper I the eventide cometh — 

Soon shall thy gleaning be o'er! 
The laborers' songs of rejoicing 

Tell of the plenteous store. 
Bring forth thy sheaves to the Master, 

So shall thy golden grain, 
In the fields by the emerald waters. 

Blossom in beauty again. 



JESUS IS MENT5. 209 



JESUS IS MINE. 

" The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are 
the children of God."— Koai. viii. 16. 

What mean these thrills? This heavenly calm? 

This ease that fills my wounded heart, 
As if some hand had poured in balm, 

And healed its every burning smart? 

O hark ! I hear sweet accents fall 

The music of a Voice Divine ! 
' ' I come in answer to Thy call, 

To dwell with Thee and make Thee mine." 

Be still, my heart ! Oh, can it be 

The voice I long have prayed to hear? 

O Voice Divine, now speak to me 
Again in accents sweet and clear ! 

Jesus is mine ! Again he speaks 
The whisper to my waiting heart — 

"My promise is to him that seeks — 
io, / am thine, and Mine thou artP' 

Jesus is mine 1 I dare not doubt 

The truth of what my soul doth feel- 
That He whose face I long have sought 
Has set upon my heart His seal. 

Jesus is mine ! If reason seeks 

The source from whence this knowledge flows, 
'Tis consciousness to which God speaks^— 

It is the heart that feels and knows. 
14 



210 BY THE GATE. 

So Thou art mine, and I am Thine — 
O knowledge passing sweet and strange ! 

All mine are Thine, and Thine are mine ; 
How rich for me is this exchange 1 

For now all earthly things are dross 
To His dear love whose name I boast; 

And all the stings and bitterness 
Of life and death in Him are lost. 

Jesus my trust ! Thyself reveal, 
And work Thy perfect will in me, 

That I may every moment feel 
My life is hid in God with Thee. 

E. A. AVARD. 



BY THE GATE. 

" Be ye not glothfnl, but followers of them who through faitt 
and patience inherit the promises."— Heb. vi. 12. 

So much to do, and so little time, 

So much to learn, and so long to wait. 

I say to myself: Arouse thee and climb! 
And then I sit down by the pleasant gate. 

By the gate I watch, while others pass through, 
I sit and dream I am following fast. 

I keep my hands folded, with nothing to do, 
And fancy my labor is something to last, 

I know I shall start up sometimes in grief, 

Send self-aiming arrows ; not pointless or few; 
Then think that the time that remains is too 
brief 



ONE WEEK IN HEAVEN. 211 

For the v/onderful work I had purposed to do. 

But the dews of the evening may fall while I 
wait, 
And the on-coming night be too dark for my 
feet! 
So the sun of the morrow that dawns o'er the 
gate 
Will find me ashamed in yesterday's seat. 

But its glorified rays on the mountain above 
Will circle the brows of a travel-worn band, 
Like a halo traced there with a gesture of love 
When the Master in blessipg had stretched 
out His hand. 

A. E. c. 



ONE WEEK IN HEAVEN. 

" The Bun shall no more go down ; neither shall the moon with- 
draw itself, lor the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the 
days of thy mourning shall be ended.''— Is. Ix. 20. 

One week in heaven ! Oh, who can say, 

What joys, what wonders Avere revealed, 
When through the pearly gates the day 

Of endless joy her eyes unsealed! 
'Twas Sabbath when she passed away; 

Grently Avas loosed the "silver cord," 
One angel more in heaven that day 

Entered the mansion of our Lord ; 
'Twas the same day her Saviour rose, 

Fittest for death of all the seven ; 
Now His fond care and love she knows, 

One week in heaven! 



212 "CHRIST-LIKE." 

Another harp and golden crown, 

Another robe of spotless white, 
Another angel voice floats down 

From heavenly hosts in realms of light; 
Eager she joins the heavenly choir 

In praises to the eternal Son ; 
But our sad voice can raise no higher 

Than meekly cry, "Thy will be done." 
To call her back we would not pray, 
. Though 'tis our mother given ; 
Her night's exchanged for endless day — 

One week in heaven ! 



"CHRIST-LIKE." 

" As yc have therefore received Christ Jepiis the Lord, bo walk 
ye in Him."— Col. ii. (i. 

Christ-like, Christian, let it be 
Watchword, countersign for thee ; 
AVhen thy way is hedged about, 
Christ-like leave the world without ; 
Seek in secret, strength to stand ; 
Then go forth, and hand to hand 
Fight the fight of faith, for He 
Hell vouchsafe thy victory. 

Christ-like, when self-love declares 
Self-indulgence has no snares, 
Christ-like, when thy pride of heart 
Would resent the scorner's smart ; 
Christ-like, when the place of power 
Brings thee to thy trial hour; 
Christ-like, aye, our pattern He 
To the death upon the tree. 



THE STARLESS CROWX 213 



THE STARLESS CROWN. 

" They that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars 
forever and ever."— D ax. xli, 3. 

Wearied and worn with earthly cares, I yielded 

to repose, 
And soon before my raptured sight, a glorious 

vision rose : 
I thought, wdiilst slumbering on my couch in 

midnight's solemn gloom, 
I heard an angel's silvery voice, and radiance 

tilled my room. 
A gentle touch awakened me — a gentle whisper 

said, 
"Arise, O sleeper, follow me!" and thro' the 

air we fled. 
We left the earth, so far away, that like a speck 

it seem'd. 
And heavenly glory, calm and pure, across our 

pathway streamed. 
Still on we went — my soul was wrapt in silent 

ecstacy; 
I wondered what the end would be, what next 

should meet mine eye. 
I knew not how Ave journeyed thro' the path- 
less fields of light. 
When suddenly a change was wrought, and I 

was clothed in white. 
We stood before a city's walls, most glorious to 

behold ; 
We passed thro' gates of glistening pearl, o'er 

streets of purest gold; 



214 THE STARLESS CROWX. 

It needed not the sun by day, the silver moon 
by night; 

The glory of the Lord was there, the Lamb him- 
self its light. 

Bright angels paced the shining streets, SAveet 
music tilled the air, 

And white-robed saints, with glittering crowns,, 
from every clime were there ; 

And some that I had loved on earth stood with 
them round the throne ; 

"All worthy is the Lamb," they sang, "the 
glory His alone," 

But fairer far than all beside, I saw my Sav- 
iour's face ; 

And, as I gazed, He smiled on me with won- 
drous love and grace. 

LoAvly I bowed before His throne, o'erjoyed that 
I at last 

Had gained the object of my hopes; that earth 
at length was past. 

And then in solemn tones, He said, "Where is 
the diadem 

That ought to sparkle on thy brow, adorned 
Avith many a gem? 

I knoAV thou hast believed on Me, and life thro' 
Me is thine. 

But where are all those radiant stars that in 
thy crown should shine? 

Yonder thou seest a glorious throng, and stars 
on every broAv ! 

For every soul tliey Jed to He, they weai^ a jewel 
now ! 

And such thy bright rcAvard had been, if such 
had been thy deed; 



THE STA11LES3 CllOW^'. 215 

If tliou hadst sought some wand' ring feet in 

path of ]Deace to lead. 
I did not mean that thou should st tread the 

way of life alone, 
But that the clear and shining light, which 

round thy footsteps shone, 
Should guide some other weary feet to my bright 

home of rest, 
And thus, in blessing those around, thou hadst 

thyself been blest.'' 

The vision faded from my sight, the voice no 
longer spake, 

A spell seemed brooding o^er my soul, which 
long I feared to break. 

And when at last I gazed around in morning's 
glimmering light. 

My spirit fell, o'erwhelmed beneath that vis- 
ion's awful might. 

I rose and wept wdth chastened joy, that yet I 
dwelt below. 

That yet another hour was mine, my faith, my 
w^orks, to show; 

That yet some sinner I might tell of Jesus' dy- 
ing love, 

And help to lead some weary soul to seek a 
home above. 

And now, while on the earth I stay, my motto 

this shall be, 
"To live no longer to myself, but Him who died 
for me!" 

And graven on my inmost soul this w^ord of 

truth divine, 
^'They that turn many to the Lord, bright as tM 
stars shall shine.'' j, l. H. 



216 GRANDMOTHER. 

GRANDMOTHER. 

" They shall walk with me in while : for they are worthy.' 
Rev. iii. 4. 

Just as the sun rose blushing red 
Over the hill-tops, somebody said, 
In broken accents of mourning woe. 
Sobbing aloud, but sobbing low : 
"Grandmother is dead!" 

When the sorrowful murmur broke, 
Out from our beautiful dreams we woke, 
Feeling the sense of terrible loss: 
'■ She was gold refined from its dross." 
So somebody spoke. 

Just as she sometimes sat in her chair. 
Lifting her heart in silent prayer. 
Looked she ; only a purple mist 
Her drooping lids and thin lips kissed, 
And rested there. 

Only yesterday how she planned 
Labors of love for her aged hand; 
"Whenever my useful days are o'er, 
Let me go to the heavenly shore," 
Was her demand. 

Dear old grandmother ! How her prayer 
Quickened the ear of Eternal Care ! 
And, \Ath only a warning pain. 
Her angel gathered her soul again 
To those regions fair. 



LOVE FOR JESUS. 217 

Blessed is it for her to sleep ; 
Can it be wrong for us to weep? 
We wlio loved her so well, and knew 
All the worth of her loving, too, 
And her wisdom deep. 

She was aged, and knew the way- 
Youthful feet were inclined to stray : 
"The young are giddy, and they must learn 
Of hard experience ere they turn," 
She would gently say. 

Happy grandmother ! Would that we 
Might share with you the mystery 
Of that Beyond, where a thought of sin 
Never, O never, can enter in 
Through eternity. 



LOVE FOR JESUS. 

" But one thin^ is needful ; and Mary hath chosen that good 
part, which shall not be taken away from her."— Luke x. 42. 

A GROUP of dear children, one w^arm summer 

day. 
Were seated most cosily chatting away, 
Beneath the cool shade of the evergreen trees. 
Whose branches were waving with every breeze. 

They talked of their dollies — with rare, pretty 

names — 
Their schools and their lessons — their plays 



218 LOVE FOR JESUS. 

And the dear little creatures "built castles in 

air," 
And their dreams of the future Avere lovely and 

fair. 



Strange questions were started and answered 

as well, 
But the strangest of all — ^just hear, while I tell: 
Said Willie, "If Jesus were here and should 

say, 
'Just ask what you will, you shall have it 

straightway?' 

Pray, what Avould you ask?" And ho called 

name by name. 
And the answers, each cheerfully, readily 

came : 
All childlike in nature — some simple, some 

wise — 
Some looking a smile, and yet others surprise. 

I said all replied — there was one modest child 
Whose voice last was heard, so sweet and so 

mild — 
Dear Mary — her answer, unlike all the rest. 
Was an outburst of love, to the Friend she 

loved best. 

She said, I would ask him for nothing at all, 
But tell him my love, as before him I'd fall, 
I could think of naught else but the love that 

I owe — 
From the first to the last, nothing else could I 

know. 



THE HOUSEHOLD SAINT. 219 

For hath he not given his life for the lost, 
And with it given all things, at marvellous 

cost? 
Love, love for my Saviour — 'tis all I can give — 
Love, love is my song, and shall be while I live. 

Dear child! like the friend of the Saviour, of 

old. 
Thou hast chosen that part which is better than 

gold; 
And oh, may the lesson thy words here impart. 
Leave its imprint on many a young tender 

heart. 



THE HOUSEHOLD SAINT. 

'■ With good-will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to 
men."— Epu. vi. 7. 

The record of her life was filled 

With daily toil and care; 
She never murmured at the cross 

However hard to bear; 
But through it all, her steadfast heart 

Beat ever strong and calm ! 
' ' She was a saint without a niche, 

A martyr with no palm." 

Though oft she drank the bitter cup 

Of sorrow and of Avrong, 
She was not selfish in her grief 

And suffering made her strong. 
She still had help for others' need. 

For others' woe a balm : 
" She was a saint without a niche, 

A martyr with no palm." 



220 "IF WE KI^EW." 

And thus through many weary years, 

Earth's thorny paths she trod ; 
She cared not for the praise of man, 

But for the smile of God. 
With cheerful trust and earnest faith, 

She sang Life's solemn psalm ; 
"She was a saint without a niche, 

A martyr with no palm." 

KATE CAMEROIi^. 



"IF WE KNEW." 

" Let your speech be alway wilh grace, season^:! with salt 
that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man." — Col 
iv. 6. 

If we knew, when walking thoughtless 

Through the crowded, noisy way. 
That some pearl of wondrous whiteness 

Close beside our pathAvay lay. 
We would pause where now we hasten, 

We would often look around. 
Lest our careless feet should trample 

Some rare jewel in the ground. 

If we knew what forms Avere fainting 

For the shade that we should fling, 
If we knew what lips were parching 

For the water we should bring. 
We would haste with eager footsteps, 

We would work with willing hands, 
Bearing cups of cooling water. 

Planting rows of shading palms. 



"IF WE KJsEW." 221 

If we knew where genius struggled, 

Through the weary nights and days, 
Seeking for some word of comfort, 

Little word of hope and praise— 
Boughs of balm and leaves of laurel 

We would place within their hands : 
Little deeds, with pleasant meaning. 

Hungry hearts can understand. 

If we knew what feet were weary, 

Climbing up the hills of pain, 
By the world cast out as evil. 

Poor repentant Magdalenes, 
Nevermore with haughty gesture 

Would we drive them from our side. 
Wrapping close our robes around us 

With a Pharisaic pride. 

If we knew, when friends around us 

Closely press to say " Good-bye," 
Which, among the lips that press us, 

First should 'neath the daisies lie, 
We would clasp our arms around us 

Looking on them through our tears, 
Tender words of love eternal 

We would whisper in their ears. 

If we knew what lives were darkened 

By some thoughtless word of ours. 
Which had ever lain upon them 

Like the frost among the flowers, 
Oh, with what sincere repentings, 

With what anguish of regret, 
While our eyes were overflowing. 

We would cry, ' 'Forgim ! forget /" 



222 AS THOU WILT 



If we knew what hands were rearing 

Massive structures on the sand, 
Planting Upas for a roof-tree 

To o'ershade their palace grand, 
We would point to many a structure 

Once as stately as their own. 
Shining fragments, domes and turrets, 

Which the winds had overthrown. 

If toe knew. Alas! and do we 

Ever care or seek to know 
Whether bitter herbs or roses 

In our garden grow? 
God forgive us I lest hereafter 

Our hearts break to hear Him say, 
" Careless child, I never knew you! 

From my presence flee away." 



AS THOU WILT! 

Many shall be purilied, made wliite, and tried."— Dan. xii. 10. 

Even so, O Father! 
Though my heart is bleeding, 

On the anvil keep me, 
AVhile its lessons needing; 
Till I'm fitted thus to fill 
The place assigned me by Thy will. 

Even so, O Father! 
As silver when 'tis tried, 

From every earthly stain 
May I be purified; 
So that, reflected, all may see 
Thine image, Lord, enstamped on me. 



THE PUREST PEARL. 223 

Even so, O Father! 
Though shrinks my heart with fear, 

The trial I'll, endure 
If Thou, dear Christ, art near; 
For "As thy day thy strength shall be." 
Is promised even unto me. 

S. JEX2fIE LEACH. 



THE PUREST PEARL. 

" Silver and gold have I none ; but such as I have give I thee. 
—Acts iii. G. 

Beside the church door, aweary and lone, 
A blind woman sat on the cold door stone; 
The wind Avas bitter, the snow fell fast. 
And a mocking voice in the fitful blast 
Seemed ever to echo her moaning cry. 
As she begged for alms of the passers-by : 
' ' Have pity on me, have pity I pray ; 
My back is bent, my head is grey." 

The bells were ringing the hour of prayer. 
And many good people were gathering there ; 
But, covered with furs and mantles warm. 
They hurried past through the wintry storm. 

Some were ]iox:)ing their souls to save. 

And some were thinking of death and the grave. 

And alas ! they had no time to heed 

The poor soul asking for charity's need. 

And some were blooming with beauty's grace, 

But closely muffled in veils of lace ; 

They saw not the sorrov/, nor heard the moan, 

Of her who sat on the cold door stone. 



224 A STORMY KIGHT. 

At last came one of a noble name, 

By the city counted the wealthiest dame ; 

And the pearls that o'er her neck were strung 

She proudly there to the beggar flung. 

Then follow a maiden young and fair, 

Adorned with clusters of golden hair; 

But her dress was thin and scanty and worn, 

Not even the beggar's seemed more forlorn. 

With a tearful look, and a pitying sigh, 

She whispered soft, "No jewels have I, 

But I give you my prayers, good friend,"' said 

she, 
"And surely I know that God listens to me." 

On her poor, weak hand, so shrunken and small. 
The blind woman felt a tear-drop fall. 
Then kissed it, and said to the weeping girl, 
" It is you that have given the purest pearl!" 



A STORMY NIGHT. 

" But whoso bath this world's good, and seeth his brother have 
uecd, and shuttetb up bis bowels of compassion from him, how 
dwellcth the love of God in him?" — 1 John iii. 17. 

A DISMAL sound of beating rain 
Is heard against the window pane. 

The heart of Nature throbs with wee; 
Her dreary tears unceasing flow. 

The naked branches toss and sigh ; 
No siar-gieam in the clouded sky. 



A STORMY NIGHT. 225 

The ghosts of buried flowers moan, 
And streams reply with wailing tone. 

Draw up your chair; shut out the night; 
Home never seemed before as bright. 

AVe need not care for outside gloom. 
Within this cheerful lighted room. 

The wind may roar with gusty mirth — 
A fire is blazing on the hearth. 

What sight across my vision swept? 
A sudden shiver o'er me crept. 

I saw, from out the embers rise, 
Dim, shadowy forms, in ghastly guise. 

A crowd of faces, white and gaunt, 
And worn, alas ! with sin and want. 

Their eyes gave forth a hungry glare, 
And yet were hopeless with despair. 

Their scanty garments, thin and old. 
Could not keep out the damp and cold. 

And, oh, they looked so pinched and blue ; 
The chilly storm had i^ierced them through. 

The vision vanished ; what it meant 
I know too well, and why 'twas sent. 

In household cheer and warmth secure 
We never should forget the poor. 
15 



236 ]V0T NOW. 

This lesson God would have us learn, 
And part of what He gives return. 



NOT NOW. 

" Jesus answered him, Whither I go, thou canst not follow me 
now ; but thou shalt follow me afterwards."— John xiii. 36. 

Not noin, my child, — a little more rough toss 
ing, 

A little longer on the billows' foam, — 
A few more journeyings in the desert-darkness, 

And then the sunshine of thy Father's Home! 

Not noiv, — fori have wand'rers in the distance, 
And thou must call them in with patient 
love ; 
Not noio^ — for I have sheep upon the moun- 
tains. 
And thou must follow them where'er they 
rove. 

Not now, — for I have loved ones sad and weary ; 

Wilt thou not cheer them with a kindly smile? 
Sick oneSjAvho need thee in their lonely sorrow; 

Wilt thou not tend them yet a little while ? 

Not now, — for wounded hearts are sorely bleed- 
ing, 
And thou must teach those widowed hearts 
to sing; 
Not noiu, — for orphans' tears are thickly falling ; 
They must be gathered 'neath some shelter- 
ing wing. 



Ts'OT NO^Y. 227 

Not now,— tor many a liungry one is pining: 
Thy willing hand must be outstretched and 
free; 

Thy Father hears the mighty cry of anguish, 
And gives His answering messages to thee. 

Not 7iow,—iov dungeon - walls look stern and 
gloomy, 
And prisoners' sighs sound strangely on the 
breeze — 
Man's pris'ners, but thy Saviour's noble free- 
men: 
Hast thou no ministry of love for these? — 

Not now, — for hell's eternal gulf is yawning, 
And souls are perishing in hopeless sin ; 

Jerusalem's bright gates are standing open, — 
Go to the banished ones, and fetch them in ! 

(to with the name of Jesus to the dying. 
And speak that name in all its living power; 

Why should thy fainting heart grow, chill and 
weary? 
Canst thou not watch ivith 7ne one little hour? 

One little hour! — and then the glorious crown- 
ing— 

The golden harp-strings and the victor's palm, 
One little hour !— and tJien the Hallelujah ! 

Eternity's long, deep, thanksgiving psalm ! 



228 SWEET REST TO COME. 

SWEET REST TO COME. 

"Faint, yet pursuing.'"— Judges viii. 4. 

Ye workers in God's vineyard, 

Who work with might and main, 
Though weak and faint and weary, 

You labor not in vain. 
'Twill not be always toiling, 

'Twill not be always grief; 
The happy day is hasting 

That brings us sweet relief. 

O, this shall stimulate us 

To bear the heat of day, 
In service of the Master, 

Who will the "penny" pay; 
In deeds of noble daring, 

By brain and tongue and pain ; 
The Master comes at twilight, 

We shall be rested then. 

Then cheerfully we'll labor, 

And mingle toil and song ; 
In earnest, good endeavor, 

The weakest may be strong; 
None but the true and faithful 

The promises can test; 
None but the weary worker 

Can know the sweets of rest. 

Then up! to work, ye idlers! 
The day is waning fast; 



SYMPATHY. 229 



This is no time for sleeping — 
The time for sleep is past : 

The fields are white to harvest, 
The gleaning time is come, 

The day of toil is ending, 
We soon shall rest at home. 



SYMPATHY. 

" With all lowliness and meekness, with long suffering, for- 
bearing one another in love."— Eph. iv. 2. 

Have a tear for the wretched, a smile for the 

glad, 
For the worthy applause, an excuse for the bad ; 
Some help for the needy, some pity for those 
Who stray from the path where true happiness 

flows. 

Have a laugh for the child in her play at thy 

feet. 
Have respect for the aged, and pleasantly greet 
The stranger that seeketh for shelter from thee ; 
Have a covering to spare, if he naked should be. 

Have a hope in thy sorrow, a calm in thy joy; 
Have a work that is worthy thy life to employ. 
And oh, above all things on this side the sod. 
Have peace with thy conscience, and peace with 
thy God! 



230 REGRET NOT. 



REGRET NOT. 

" The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me ; Thy mercy, 
O Lord, endurcth forever; forsake not the works of thir.e own 
hands."— Ps. csxxviii. 8. 

The past can never be recalled, 

However deep the grief or sin, 

The present is too swift to spend 

In thoughts of Avhat ' ' it might have been " 

Our Father knows the reason why 
In time of peril we were faint, 
And lacked the courage to go on, 
Filling the air with our complaint. 

Perhaps He does not judge us so; 
He knows our frame ; it is but dust ; 
O Heavenly Father, help us to 
Look up to Thee with loving trust ! 

Thou knowest all ; we need Thy love. 
To make us strong for future strife ; 
Give us Thy grace ; Thy patience sweet 



And in all days to look to Thee 
Above the tears, above the pain. 
And feel Thou hast a reason why 
It was not, when "it might have been." 

N. L. M. 



THE TRAYER OF THE INVALID. 2Sx 



THE PRAYER OF THE INVALID. 

" I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are ri^^ht, and that thou 
in faithfulness hast afflicted me." — Ps. cxis. 75. 

Peace, restless soul ! God bids thee not to mourn 

At His behest; 
If sickness be thy lot, still all is well, 

He knows the best. 

What if my body is in weary pain, 

He bears me up ; 
His arm is under me, His hand it is 

Still holds the cup. 

As the pale flower without the sun's glad ray 

Droops and soon dies. 
So without Thee, O God, my spirit still 

In darkness lies. 

And as upon my lonely, lonely bed, 

Weary I lie. 
Grant me that patience Thou alone canst give, 

O be Thou nigh! 

Help me to live, O Lord, for Thee alone ! 

In good or ill 
May I submissive bow, and humbly pray 

"Lord, not my will." 

Soon, Saviour dear, shall I go home to Thee, 

No more to part; 
No more to weep, no more to grieve with sin 

Thy loving heart. 



232 THE SEED AND THE SOWERS. 

There I shall praise Thee, and perchance may be 

A spirit blest 
To minister to weary ones on earth, 

And tell of rest. S. M. 



THE SEED AND THE SOWERS. 

" Be not deceived : God is not moclied : for whatsoever a man 
Bovreth, that shall he also reap."— Gal. vi. 7. 

Ever so little the seed may be, 

Ever so little the hand, 
But when it is sown it must grow, you see, 
And develop its nature, weed, flower, or tree; 
The sunshine, the air, and the dew are free 

At its command. 

If the seed be good, we rejoice in hope 

Of the harvest it will yield ; 
"We wait and watch for its springing up. 
Admire its growth and count on the crop, 
That will come from the little seeds we drop 

In the great wide field. 

But if we heedlessly scatter wide 
Seeds we may happen to find, 
We care not for culture or Avhat may betide. 
We sow here and there on the highway side ; 
Whether they've lived or whether they've died, 
We never mind. 

Yet every sower must one day reap 

Fruit from the seed he has sown. 



FINISH THY AVORK — THEN REST. 233 

How carefully, then, it becomes us to keep 
A watchful eye on the seed, and seek 
To soAv what is good, that we may not weep 
To receive our own ! 



FINISH THY WORK— THEN REST. 

"Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters."— Is. xxxii. 20. 

Finish thy work — the time is short. 

The sun is in the west, 
The night is coming on — till then 

Think not of rest. 

Yes ! finish all thy work— then rest ; 

Till then, rest never; 
The rest prepared for thee by God 

Is rest forever. 

Finish thy work ; then wipe thy brow, 

Ungird thee from thy toil ; 
Take breath, and from each weary limb 

Shake off the soil. 

Finish thy work — then sit thee down, 

On some celestial hill. 
And of its strength-reviving air 

Take thou thy fill. 

Finish thy work— then go in peace, 

Life's battle fought and won ; 
Hear from the throne thy Master's voice — 

' ' Well done ! Well done !" 



2S4: somebody's darling. 

Finish thy work — then take thy harp, 

Give praise to God above ; 
Sing a new song of mighty joy 

And endless love. 

Give thanks to Him, who held thee up 

In all thy path below ; 
Who sees thee ; faithful unto death — ■ 

And crowns thee now ! 



SOMEBODY'S DARLING. 

" Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that 
weep."— Rom. xii. 15. 

Into a ward of the whitewashed walls, 

Where the dead and the dying lay, 
Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls, 

Somebody's darling was borne one day. 
Somebody's darling ! so young and so brave, 

Wearing still on his pale, sweet face. 
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave. 

The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. 

Matted and damp are the curls of gold. 

Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ; 
Pale are the lips of delicate mould. 

Somebody's darling is dying now. 
Back from the beautiful, blue-veined face 

Brush every wandering silken thread ; 
Cross his hands as a sign of grace — 

Somebody's darling is still and dead! 



WHAT A CHILD MAY DO. 235 

Kiss him once for somebody'' s sake ; 

Murmur a prayer, soft and low ; 
One bright curl from the cluster take — 

They were somebody's pride, you know. 
Somebody's hand hath rested there ! 

Was it a mother's, soft and white ? 
And have the lips of a sister fair 

Been baptized in those waves of light? 

God knows best. He was somebody's love 

Somebody's heart enshrined him here ; 
Somebody wafted his name above, 

Night and morn on the wings of prayer. 
Somebody Avept when he marched away. 

Looking so handsome, brave and grand; 
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay. 

Somebody clung to his parting hand. 

Somebody's watching and waiting for him. 

Yearning to hold him again to her heart ; 
There he lies, with the blue eyes dim. 

And smiling, childlike lips apart. 
Tenderly bury the fair young dead. 

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear, 
Carve on the wooden slab at his head, 

" Somebody's darling lies buried here." 



WHAT A CHILD MAY DO. 

" Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work b« 
pure, and wliether it bo right."— Pkov. xs. 11. 

A LITTLE child I am indeed. 
And little do I know ; 



236 THE HEAVENLY SCULPTOR. 

Much help and care I yet shall need, 

That I may wiser grow, 
If I would ever hope to do 
Things great and good, and useful too. 

But even now I ought to try 

To do what good I may ; 
God never meant that such as I 

Should only live to play, 
And talk and laugh, and eat and drink. 
And sleep and wake and never think. 

One gentle word that I may speak. 

Or one kind, loving deed. 
May, though a trifle, poor and weak. 

Prove like a tiny seed ; 
And who can tell what good may spring 
From such a very little thing? 

Then let me try each day and hour 

To act upon this plan ; 
What little good is in my power 

To do it while I can. 
If to be useful thus I try, 
I may do better by-and-by. 



THE HEAVENLY SCULPTOR. 

" Thy hands have made me and fashioned me : give me under- 
standing, that I may learn thy commandments."— Ps. cxix. 73. 

Shrink not from suffering. Each dear blow, 
From which thy smitten spirit bleeds. 

Is but a messenger to show 
The renovation which it needs. 



MY mother's hands. 237 

The earthly sculptor smites the rock ; 

Loud the relentless hammer rings ; 
And from the rude, unshapen block, 

At length, imprisoned beauty brings. 

Thou art that rude, unshapen stone; 

And waitest, till the arm of strife 
Shall make its crucifixions knoAvn, 

And smite and carve thee into life. 

The Heavenly Sculptor works on thee ; 

Be Patient. Soon His arm of might, 
Shall from thy prison's darkness free. 

And change thee to a form of light. 

T. C. u. 



MY MOTHER'S HANDS. 

Her children arise up, and call her blessed."— Prov. sxsi. 28 

Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! 

They're neither white nor small. 
And you, I know, would scarcely think 

That they were fair at all, 
I've looked on hands whose form and hue 

A sculptor's dream might be. 
Yet are these aged, w^rinkled hands 

More beautiful to me. 

Such beautiful, beautiful hands I 
Though heart were weary and sad, 

These patient hands kept toiling on 
That children might be glad. 



238 LIFE TAPESTRY. 

I almost weep, as looking back 

To childhood's distant day, 
I think how these hands rested not 

When mine were at their play. 

Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! 

They're growing feeble now ; 
For time and pain have left their work 

On hand, and heart, and brow. 
Alas ! alas ! the nearing time. 

And the sad, sad day to me, 
"When 'neath the daisies, out of sight. 

These hands will folded be. 

But O, beyond this shadowy damp, 

Where all is bright and fair, 
I know full w^ell these dear old hands 

Will palms of victory bear; 
Where crystal streams thro' endless years 

Flow over golden sands. 
And where the old gi*ow young again 

I'll clasp my mother's hands. 



LIFE TAPESTRY. 

''But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory 
of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, 
even as by the Spirit of the Lord."— 2 Cok. iii. 18. 

Too long have I, methought, with tearful eye. 
Pored o'er this tangled work of mine, and 

mused 
Above each stitch awry, and thread confused; 

Now will I think on what, in years gone by, 



NOTHINa TO DO. 239 

I heard of them that weave rare tapestrj^ 
At royal looms — and how they constant use 
To work on the rough side, and still peruse 
The pictured pattern set above them high ; 
So will I set MY COPY high above, 

And gaze and gaze, till on my spirit grows 
Its gracious impress ; till some line of love, 

Transformed upon my canvas, faintly glows; 
Nor look too much on warp or Avoof, provide 
He whom I work for sees their fairer side ! 



NOTHING TO DO. 

"Even so faitli. if it liath not works, is dead, beinfj alone."— 
James ii. 17. 

''Nothing to do!" in this world of ours, 
Where weeds spring up with the fairest flowers, 
Where smiles have only a fitful play, 
AVhere hearts are breaking every day I 

"Nothing to do!" thou Christian soul. 
Wrapping thee round in thy selfish stole ; 
Off with the garments of sloth and sin, 
Christ thy Lord has a kingdom to win. 

" Nothing to do !" There are prayers to lay 
On the altar of incense, day by day; 
There are foes to meet within and without ; 
There is error to conquer, strong and stout. ' 

" Nothing to do!" There arc minds to teach 
The simplest forms of Christian speech; 



240 AFTERWARDS. 

There are hearts to lure, with loving T^ile, 
From the grimmest haunts of Sin's defile. 

" Nothing to do!" There are lambs to feed, 
The precious hope of the Church's need; 
Strength to be borne to the weak and faint, 
Vigils to keep with the doubting saint. 

"Nothing to do!" and thy Saviour said, 
" Follow thou Me, in the path I tread." 
Lord, lend thy help the journey through, 
Lest, faint, we cry, " So much to do!" 



AFTERWARDS. 

" Whither I go, thou can?t not follow me now ; but thou shalt 
ollow me aftervvards."— John xiii. 36. 

Now, the sowing and the weeping. 
Working hard and waiting long ; 

Afterward, the golden reaping, 
Harvest home, and grateful song. 

Now, the pruning, sharp, unsparing. 
Scattered blossom, bleeding shoot; 

Afterward, the plenteous bearing 
Of the Master's pleasant fruit. 

Now, the x>lunge, the briny burden. 
Blind, faint, groping in the sea ; 

Afterward, the pearly guerdon 
That shall make the diver free. 

Now, the long and toilsome duty 
Stone by stone to carve and bring ; 



''he answered her in'ot a word." 241 

Afterward, the perfect beauty 
Of the palace of the King. 

Now, the tuning and the tension, 
Wailing minors, discord strong; 

Afterward, the grand ascension 
Of the Alleluia song. 

Now, the spirit conflict-riven, 
Wounded heart, unequal strife ; 

Afterward, the triumph given, 
And the victor's crown of life. 

Now, the training strange and lowly, 

Unexplained and tedious now; 
Afterward the service holy, 

And the Master's " Enter thou!" 

F. R. HAVERGALL. 



"HE ANSWERED HER NOT A WORD." 

'• But he answered her not a word. And his disciples came and 
besought him, saying, Send her away, for she crieth after us."— 
Matt. xv. 23. 

No answer, Lord? 
Dost Thou not hear the cry 
Of one who comes to Thee for aid 

In her extremity? 

" Send her away; 
She crieth after us." 
So say thy followers, Lord, but Thou 

Canst not treat trouble thus. 

16 



242 *'he an'swered her i^fOT a word." 

still she cries on ! 
Nor cries she now in vain. 
"Great is thy faith," the Saviour saith; 

" Thy child is whole again." 

So let us cry, 
Although He answers not ; 
It is not that He does not hear. 

Or, hearing, careth not ! 

He tries our faith. 
Oh, may we honor Him 
By resting wholly on his word. 

Though hope and joy be dim. 

Precious the faith 
Which is by fire tried — 
More precious than the finest gold 

Or silver purified. 

Then doubt Him not ! 
Still pour out thy complaint 
• Before the Lord, who knows thy need ; 
Let not thy heart grow faint. 

Oh, Jesus, help! 
Out faith and love are small. 
Still Ave would trust, and love Thee more. 

And all Thy love recall. 

That love reveal ! 
Then ours shall brighter burn ; 
Then shall our wandering hearts, O Lord, 

Ever to Thee return ! 



MY aULDE. 243 

And though as yet 
No answer we receive, 
In faith and hope we'll travel on — 

We'll doubt not, but believe. 

He'll answer us. 
Though when, we cannot tell; 
And this our song of praise shall be — 

He hath done all things well ! 



MY GUIDE. 

" Behold, I have given him for a witness to the people, a leader 
and commander to the people."— Is. Iv. 4, 

" This God is our God forever and ever. He will he our guide 
even unto death." — Ps. xlviii. 14. 

I ASKED for a guide ; my sight seemed dim, 
The way grew dark, and I asked for hini 

Out of my pressing need. 
My wandering feet were prone to stray 
Off from the beaten, well worn way. 

And I was faint indeed. 

One came. His voice was low and sweet, 
And I marked how torn were His weary feet, 

As he said, "The path I know;" 
While He kindly laid my hand on His arm, 
And whispered, ' ' To thee there shall come no 
harm 

In the path we twain shall go." 

" Was He a stranger?" ye ask, and think 

I must needs from His gentle guidance shrink, 



244 MY GUIDE. 

Till I had proved Him true. 
Scarcely before had I looked on Him ; 
But His sight was strong, though mine was 
dim, — 

He had watched me my whole life through. 

Yea, more than this, Avhen He saw me lost, 
The space from His Father's house He crossed, — 

A wilderness bleak and wild ; 
He came through the briers and thorns and heat, 
Though He left in blood the print of His feet, 

And sought me, a wandering child. 

My clothes were torn, — I had nought to wear, — 
He took of His own, and clothed me there, 

When He washed the stains away 
Which had gathered with every step I went, 
Stumbling, through. fear and discontent, 

In the time I had been astray. 

And then of His Father s house He spoke ; 
On my homeless heart the sweet words broke 

Like music soft and low. 
"Take me, oh, take me there!" I cried, 
' ' The world is bleak, and its paths so wide 

Are full of grief and woe." 

But He said, ' ' Not yet — there is work for thee ; 
I would have thee prove that thou lovest me, — 

I have loved thee, child, so long; 
The world has known thee a sinner here, 
Following thy own will, year by year, — 

A will so fierce and strong. 



MY GUIDE. 245 

" Let it see thee now as a child of God, 
Bansomed, redeemed by a Saviour's blood, 

Walking, renewed, 'in light;' 
Putting thy hand to the lowliest task 
Where He, in His wisdom, thy strength would 

With a faith all clear and bright." [ask, 

Then I bowed my head with shame, and said, 
" I see, dear Lord, — oh, let me tread 

Where Thou wouldst have me go ; 
Only be Thou at my side, to aid, — 
Of myself, dear Lord, I should be afraid, 

If Thou didst not lead me so. 

" Send Thou Thy Spirit, by day and night 
Shedding around me its calm, clear light, 

Like pillar of fire, of old ; 
Send thou Thy grace to my inmost heart. 
And a measure of Thine own love impart 

To that heart that has been so cold." 

Marvel ye now that I trust my guide, 
Or my smallest needs to Him confide. 

With His words so kind and true. 
Spoken afresh to me, day by day. 
As He bids me "journey " or bids me stay 

Where He gives me work to do? 

I only long that my eyes may be 
Steadily fixed on Him, that He 

May guide me at His will, — 
That my hands be faithful in work begun, 
And my willing feet on His errands run, 

Or, when He bids, stand still. 



246 PRATER AJfD POTATOES. 

Will ye not try this guide so good? 
He hath bought you, too, with His precious 
blood, 

And watched you your whole lives through: 
There is room on His arm for you to h an ; 
He ever will be, and aye, hath been, 

"A leader " strong and true. 

AXNA B. TROTH. 



PRAYER AND POTATOES. 

'' If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daiiy food, 
And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed 
and filled ; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which 
are needful to the body, what doth it profit ?" — James ii. 15, 16. 

Ax old lady sat in her old arm-chair, 
With wrinkled visage and dishevelled hair, 

And hunger-worn features ; 
For days and for weeks her only fare, 
As she sat in her old arm-chair, 

Had been potatoes. 

But now they were gone ; of bad or good 
Not one was left for the old lady's food 

Of those potatoes. 
And she sighed and said, " What shall I do? 
Where shall I send, and to whom shall I go 

For more potatoes?" 

And she thought of the deacon over the way, 
The deacon so ready to worship and pray, 
Whose cellar was full of potatoes. 



PRAYER AND POTATOES. 247 

She said, '' I Avill send for the deacon to ccme; 
He'll not much mmd to give nie some 
Of such a store of potatoes." 

And the deacon came over as fast as he could, 
Thinking to do the old lady some good ; 

But never for once of potatoes. 
He asked her at once what was her chief want ; 
And she, simple soul, expecting a grant, 

Immediately answered, "Potatoes." 

But the deacon's religion didn't lie that way; 
He was more accustomed to preach and pray 

Than to give his hoarded potatoes. 
So, not hearing, of course, what the old lady said, 
He rose to pray Avith uncovered head ; 

But she only thought of potatoes. 

He prayed for patience, goodness, and grace; 
But when he prayed, " Lord, give her peace," 

She audibly sighed, " Give potatoes." 
And at the end of each prayer which he said 
He heard, or thought he heard, in its stead 

That same request for potatoes. 

Deacon was troubled, knev/ not what to do; 
'Twas very embarrassing to have her act so, 

And about those carnal potatoes. 
So, ending his prayers, he started for home. 
The door closed behind ; he heard a deep groan, 

"Oh! give to the hungry potatoes." 

And the groan followed him all the way home. 
In the midst of the night it haunted his room, 



248 PRAYER AND POTATOES. 

" Oh! give to the hungry potatoes." 
He could bear it no longer ; arose and dressed, 
From his well-filled cellar taking in haste 

A bag of his best potatoes. 

Again he went to the widow's lone hut 
Her sleepless eyes she had not yet shut; 
But there she sat in the old arm-chair, 
With the same wan features, same wan air. 
And, entering in, he poured on the floor 
A bushel or more from his goodly store 
Of choicest potatoes. 

The widow's heart leaped up for joy. 
Her face was pale and haggard no more. 
" Now," said the deacon, " shall we pray?" 
" Yes," said the widow, " now you may." 
And he knelt him down on the sanded floor, 
Where he had poured out his goodly store ; 
And such a prayer the deacon prayed 
As never before his lips essayed. 
'No longer embarrassed, but free and full 
He poured out the voice of a liberal soul; 
And the widow responded a loud "Amen!" 
But said no more of potatoes. 

And would you who hear this simple tale. 

Pray for the poor, and praying prevail? 

Then preface your prayer with alms and good 

deeds. 
Search out the poor, their wants and needs ; 
Pray for their peace and grace, spiritual food ; 
For wisdom and guidance — all these are good; 
But don't forget the potatoes ! 



"be still, and know that I AM GOD." 249 

"BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM 
GOD." 

" Be still, and kuow that I am God ; I will be exalted among 
the heathen, 1 will be exalted in the earth."— Ps. xlvi. 10. 

O CEASE thy wanderings to and fro I 
Return, my soul, unto thy rest ; 

Hast thou not heard, dost thou not know, 
That m thy patience thou art blessed? 

The winds may howl, the tempest rage. 
The angry waves around thee swell; 

But fear thee not, nor be dismayed, 
Thy Saviour doeth all things well. 

And He who made the storm a calm. 
And bade the raging sea be still. 

Hath for thy wound a healing balm. 
An antidote for every ill. 

He hears the cry of the poor. 
And to the needy soul He saith, 

' ' I've set for thee an open door. 
For every man I've tasted death." 

Then follow not thy restless will. 

But wait in silence, " watch and pray," 

Be humble, lowly, meek and still. 
And Christ himself will lead the way. 

He saith not, " Go," but, "Follow me;" 
And should the way be dark and drear, 

Stand still, and thy salvation see, 
Assured thy Saviour's hand is near. 



250 PRAYER. 

Commit thy Avay unto the Lord, 
And he will guide thee safely home ; 

The boon of Peace, a rich reward, 
Shall for thy sufferings here atone. 

ELIZA H. HEADER. 



PRAYER. 

" Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, 
and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, 
when ye shall search for me with all your heart."— Jeb. xxix. 
12, 13. 

Whex prayer delights thee least, then learn to 

say. 
Soul, now is greatest need that thou shouldst 

pray. 

Crooked and warped I am, and I would fain 
Straighten myself by Thy right line again. 

Oh, come, warm sun, and ripen my late fruits ; 
Pierce, genial showers, down to my parched 
roots. 

My well is bitter: cast therein the Tree, 

That sweet henceforth its brackish wave may be. 

Say, what is prayer, when it is prayer indeed? 
The mighty utterance of a mighty need. 

The man is praying, who doth press with might 
Out of his darkness into God's own light. 



HOPE. 251 

White heat the iron in the furnace won ; 
Withdrawn from thence, 'tis cold and hard anon, 

Flowers from their stalks divided, presently 
Droop, fail, and wither in the gazer's eye. 

The largest river, from its fountain head 
Cut off, leaves soon a parched and dusty bed. 

All things that live from God their sustenance 

wait, 
And sun and moon are beggars at His gate. 

All skirts extended of thy mantle hold. 
When angel-hands from Heaven are scattering 
gold. 

TRENCH. 



HOPE. 

" We are saved by hope : but hope that is seen is not hope ; for 
what a man seeth, why cloth he yet hope for ? But if we hojre for 
that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it."— Rom. 
viii. 24, 25. 

O ! who can tell of the sower's cares 

As he wanders forth alone? 
While the shrill wind whistles in wintry airs 

To the answering surge's moan. 

No sunny gleam in the leaden sky, 

No blithe companions around. 
Silent he scatters the seed away 

In the cold, uncertain ground. 



252 HOPE. 

Wearily, wearily forth he plods, 

With life for the yielding loam ; 
Who can say if ever above the clods 

He shall hear the harvest home? 

Shall the long dark months which intervene 
The work of the seed-time spoil? 

Or the locust army blight the green 
When it peeps above the soil. 

Shall seed long wooed by the jealous rain. 

Into wanton fullness sprout? 
Or the mad wind scatter the bearded grain. 

In its boisterous glee, about. 

O ! who can tell of the sower's cares. 

As he wanders lone and mute, 
And lightens his labors with many prayers 

For the generous gift of fruit. 

For some may fall where travelers tread. 
And the wild birds around it flock ; 

And some where the furrow is sparsely spread 
O'er a scarp of stubborn rock. 



The sun from the seed he leaves ; 
It were strange if ever the country-side 
Should wave with the whitening sheaves. 

Though clouds may gather, and winds may sigh, 

And scoffers deride his deed. 
Yet ever from sunrise hastening by 

The sower soweth his seed. 



MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 253 

O ! brave and bold is the sower's heart, 

With his darkUng fears to cope, 
For the dull, gray future is spanned athwart 

By the iris-arch of Hope. 

And this heavenly word hath made him strong— 

' ' The harvest shall never cease ;" 
And he scattereth still to that inward song, 

For duty fulfilled hath peace. 

'Twere pleasanter work, Avith the flower crowned, 
And the harvest laugh of friends ; 

But the God who blesses the fruitful ground, 
The bliss of the seed-time sends. 

And though lonely toil on earth is sad, 
'Mid the frown of wintry weather, 

The sowers and reapers — where all is glad — 
Shall rejoice for aye together. 

W. MORLEY PUXSHOX. 



MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. 

A merry heart clocth good like a medicine.'"— Prov. xvii. 22. 

A MERRY sunbeam in a glen, 
'' Far from the busy haunts of men," 
Lay thinking what it best could do. 
To render others happy too. 

It wandered to the forest grey, 
And found the wild winds in their play 
Had stripped the noble woodland trees, 
Of half their pretty brilliant leaves. 



254 WHAT THE SPARROW CHIRPS. 

The wild flower lifted up its head, 
To see the sunbeam pass its bed, 
And thought within its tiny self. 
Who was that laughing, dancing elf ? 

It hastened to the river side 
And kissed the angry, heaving tide. 
Until the waters, cold and deep. 
Lay still, as if in peaceful sleep. 

It next tripped by a cottage door. 
And shone across the sanded floor ; 
Until the children stopped their play 
To bless the little golden ray. 

May we all like this sunbeam be 
From every selfish motive free. 
Willing to do all in our power, 
To fill with joy each coming hour. 

BESSIE RAYMOIfD. 



WHAT THE SPARROW CHIRPS. 

'■ ' Are not five sparrows sold for two farthini^s, and not one of 
them is forgotten before God ?"— Luke xii. 6. 

I AM only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
My life is of little value ; 

But the dear Lord careth for me. 

He gave me a coat of feathers ; 
It is very plain, I know, 



WHAT THE SPARROW CHIRPS. 255 

With never a speck of crimson, 
For it was not made for show. 

But it keeps me warm in winter, 
And it shields me from the rain ; 

Were it bordered with gold or purple, 
Perhaps it would make me vain. 

By and by when the spring-time cometh, 

I will build me a nest, 
With many a chirp of pleasure, 

In the spot I like the best. 

And He will give me wisdom 
To build it of leaves most brown ; 

Warm and soft it must be for my birdies, 
And so I Avill line it with down. 

I have no barn or storehouse, 

I neither sow nor reap ; 
G-od gives me a sparrow's portion, 

But never a seed to keep. 

If my meal is sometimes scanty. 

Close picking makes it sweet; 
I have always enough to feed me. 

And "life is more than meat." 

I know there are many sparrows ; 

All over the world we are found ; 
But our Heavenly Father knoweth 

When one of us falls to the ground. 

Though small, we are never forgotten; 
Though weak, we are never afraid; 



256 ASSURANCE IJ^ CHRIST. 

For we know that the dear Lord keepeth 
The life of the creatures He made. 

I fly through the thickest forests, 

I light on many a spray ; 
I have no chart nor compass, 

But I never lose my way. 

I fold my wings at twilight, 

Wherever I happen to be ; 
For the Father is always watching, 

And no harm will come to me. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree; 
But I know that the Father loves me ; 

Have you less faith than me ? 



ASSURANCE IN CHRIST, 

The first Epistle of John. Ter?e 1-13. 

Ca^N" it be right for me to go 

On in this uncertain way — 
Say "I believe," and yet not know 

Whether my sins are put away? 

Not know my trespasses forgiven, 
Until I meet Him in the air ; 

Not know that I shall get to heaven 
Until I wake and find me there. 

Not know my state till on my brow 
Beams the celestial diadem; 



ASSURAISrCE IX CHRIST. 257 

"Why, surely all the world will know 
That I'm a pardoned sinner then. 

Must clouds and darkness veil my brow 
Until I dwell with saints in light? 

And must I walk in darkness now 
Because I cannot walk by sight? 

And shall I just begin to say, 

"Father, thine every word is true," 

And cast my doubts and fears away, 
When all the world will own it too ? 

Is this the way to treat the God 

Who bids me love and trust Him now? 

Is this the way to use the Word 
Given to guide me here below? 

How can I forth to sinners go, 
And tell of grace so rich and free, 

If all the while I do not know 

Whether that grace has smiled on me? 

How can it be my joy to dwell 

On the rich power of Jesus' blood, 

If all the while I cannot tell 

That it HAS sealed my peace with God. 

How can I be like Christ below — 
How like my Lord in witness shine — 

Unless with conscious joy I know 
His Father and His God as Mi^fE? 

Oh. crush this cruel unbelief,. 
These needless, shameful doubts remove, 
17 



2SS THE CALL TO GOSPEL SEKVICE. 

And suffer me no more to grieve 
The God whom I do really love. 

Father, I would — and oh, how blest, 
Whilst thus I supplicate, to know 

That OJfE, of all thy mind possessed, 
Thy spirit supplicateth too — 

I would, with humble gladness, say, 
I rest on what my Lord hath done; 

And evermore on earth display 
The lovely image of Thy Son. 

I would, whate'er the world might say. 
Whatever by flesh might be endured, 

Be more and more, each passing day, 
Made like unto my gracious Lord. 

Sweet posture thus on earth to stay. 
And not be taken by surprise; 

But catch the earliest dawn of day. 
And see the "Morning Star" arise! 



THE CALL TO GOSPEL SERVICE. 

" Go stand and speak .... to the people all the words of ^his 
life."— Acts v. 20. 
" How beautiful upon the mountaiiiS, etc."— Is. iii. 7. 

Go stand and speak ! for darkness yet prevail 
And widely broods the night ; [eth, 

Yet, thanks to God ! the living word availeth. 
His word — "Let there be Light !" 



THE CALL TO GOSPEL SERVICE. 259 

Go stand and speak ! and bid the clouds of sor- 
From mourning hearts to roll ; [row 

Oh, bright shall be the dawning of the morrow, 
When light breaks on the soul. 

Go stand and speak! not only where affliction 
Invites more soothing speech; 

By faithful words the arrow of conviction 
The sin-stained heart may reach. 

Go stand and speak ! the warning message giv- 
Witli no uncertain sound ; [ing. 

Thus may their hearts who now at ease are liv- 
"With better hopes abound. [ing. 

Go stand and speak! and sweet shall be the 
Of thy melodious voice ; [ringing 

The dreary desert shall with joy and singing 
Abundantly rejoice. 

Go stand and speak! and soon the gushing 
fountains 

The way-worn heart shall cheer, 
And beauteous on the bleak and barren moun- 

Thy willing feet appear. [tains 

No feet more welcome to a far-off nation 
Those desert paths have trod, 

Than his who brings glad tidings of salvation, 
The messenger of God. 

Point all to Christ, the only Intercessor, 

Who, in the courts above, 
Pleads with the Father for each poor trans- 

With never-dying love. [gressor, 



260 COZv^FLICT. 

Point all to Christ ! oh, let no hope of heaven 

On self-gained merit rest ; 
No other name than His hath e'er been given 

By which we may be blest 

Go stand and speak ! tell of that glad awaking, 
When Christ's Redeemed shall rise. 

Their earthly mansions willingly forsaking, 
For mansions in the skies. 

That home, where pain or want shall enter never, 

No night dispel the day. 
The voice of sorrow shall be hushed forever. 

And sighing flee away. w. K. , jr. 



CONFLICT. 

'■'■ I did mouru as a dove : mine eyes fail with locking upward : 
O Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake for me."— Is. xxxviii. 14. 

O, ]S^OT this cross, my Father! not this cup, 
'Twere death, 'twere death to part 
This idol of my heart ; 
I cannot give it up ! 

C'hild, 'twas My hand prepared for thee this 
My arm shall bear thee through; [cross. 
My grace thy will subdue, 
And change to gain thy loss. 

Father, I cannot bend to Thine my Avill ; 
This stubborn heart will cling 
Unto the cherished thing 
That holds it captive still. 



CONFLICT. 261 

Come unto Me, my child, my power shall break 
The chains that fetter thee ; 
Fear not, but trust in Me, 
For I will not forsake ! 

O Father! bid mo not with this to part; 
I cannot, dare not pray, 
That Thou shouldst take away 
This treasure of my heart ! 

Child, thou must lay it down to follow Me ; 

Thy cross with meekness bear ; 

Thy Lord its weight will share. 

And make it light to thee ! 

Father, the way is dark, and rough the road ; 
O surely there must be 
Some other way to Thee ! 
I sink beneath this load! 

My child, thou knowest not — this path is right, 
Though rough and dark the way ; 
Mine arm is still thy stay, 
And leads thee to the light. 

Father, do with me as it pleaseth Thee — 
My cup with mourning fill ; 
Only be near me still. 
And undertake for me I 



262 O TURIS", IDLE WATs'DERER! 

O TURN, IDLE WANDERER! 



"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not 
Baved."— Jee. x'm. 20, 



O, turn, idle wanderer! pause, careless rover! 
Too long, in your madness, your doom you 
have braved ; 
The summer is flying — the harvest's half over. 
They soon will be ended — and you are not 
saved. 

Come, half-hearted Christian, for yet is extended, 

The day of that Grace, you so faintly have 

craved ; 

Oh, then let us plead with you, ere it is ended. 

The harvest is near ; are you sure that you're 

saved ? 

Poor votary of mammon, your gains may be 
splendid ; 
Yet, weighed with salvation, hov^^ fearful their 
cost! 
When the harvest is over, the summer is ended, 
Where, where is their value, it you should be 
lost? 

Come, break one and all from the bonds which 
enthral you, 
In the fountain, your uttermost sin may be 
laved ; 
The Lord of the Harvest is waiting to call you, 
And while He shall linger, even you may be 
saved. 



THROUGH EARTH TO HEAVEJf. 263 

Even yet, with the angels' your song may be 
blended, 
While, o'er your glad forehead, the palm 
branch is waved, 
*' The harvest is over, the summer is ended, 
But glory to God, we are saved, we are saved. 

' ' And Jesus, our Saviour, be Thine, too, the 
glory; 
On Thy dear wounded hands our salvation 
was graved; 
And now, through eternity, ours be the story, 
Of how we were lost, but through Thee we 
are saved." 



THROUGH EARTPI TO HEAVEN. 



" Thanks to God, which giveth us the victory, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ."—! Cor. xv. 57. 



We are pilgrims bound for the better land, 
Where the stream of life laves the golden sand : 
We have no continuing city here, 
But our city of refuge, our home is there. 

From every region of earth, we've come, 
And, one in spirit^ are journeying home. 
Out of every kindred and tongue and clime, 
From the land of the orange, the palm and 
me. 

From the chill domain of eternal snows; 
From the sunny home of the vine and rose; 



264 ' THROUGH EARTH TO HEAVEN. 

From the east to the place of the setting sun ; 
From the ice-bound Pole to the Torrid Zone. 

Of every color and tribe and race — 
Allied by adoption, made one by grace — 
We are journeying on to our home above, 
Where sin invades not the realm of love. 

We may stop to gather the wayside flowers ; 
We may rest awhile in the fragrant bowers. 
Which God hath provided along the way. 
To shield from the tempest, or heat of day. 

But we may not stay in this world below, 
AVhere the cup of bliss has its dregs of woe ; 
Our home is on j^onder illumined shore. 
Where woe can embitter our bliss no more. 

Where flowers bloom not to fade and die. 
Where naught shall sever affection's tie ; 
Where affliction comes not, nor death nor night, 
But where all is joyous and calm and bright. 

Do not detain us, for we cannot remain 
In this world of sorrow, of care and pain. 
We are heirs of glory through Christ the Son, 
And we may not rest till our goal is won. 

The stream of death lies just before, 
But our home appears on the farther shore. 
We can almost discover the jasper walls, 
The pearly gates, and the shining halls, 

The streets of gold and of priceless stone , 
The crystal sea and the great white throne; 



LARV^. 265 

Where cherub and seraph are bending low, 
Beneath the arch of the emerald bow. 

Wliere the Lamb is seated at God's right hand ; 
Where ransomed millions in glory stand. 
No night is there, neither moon nor sun. 
For the light thereof is the Holy One. 

We long to sunder these bonds of clay, 
And on eagle pinions to soar away; 
But we follow our Captain's guiding hand 
And journey onward, a pilgrim band. 

A few short years and our toil is done — 
Our conflict finished — the victory won 
vVe shall lay our cross and our armor down, 
i.^or the saintly robe and the kingly crown. 

MARSHALL B. SMITH. 



L A R V ^ . 

"Beauty for ashes."— Is. Ixi. 3. 



Oue of the most celebrated of American writers says of this 
wonclerfu! little poem, without extravagance : " I scarcely know 
a modern poem, of the same length, that I think equal to it, com- 
bining as it does, happy and graceful illustration with profound 
philosophy." 

My little maiden of four years old, — 
No myth, but a genuine child is she — 

With her bronze brown eyes and her curls of 
gold- 
Came quite in disgust one day to me 



266 LARYiE. 

Rubbing her shoulder with rosy palm, — 
As the loathsome touch seemed yet to thrill 
her, — 

She cried, ' ' Oh, mother, I found on my arm 
A horrible, crawling caterpillar!" 

And with mischievous smile she could scarcely 
smother. 

Yet a glance, in its daring half-awed and shy, 
She added : ' ' While they were about it, mother, 

I wish they'd just finished the butterfly!" 

They were words to the thought of the soul that 
turns 

From the coarser form of a partial growth. 
Reproaching the Infinite Patience that yearns 

With an unknown glory to crown them both. 

Ah, look thou largely, with lenient eyes. 
On whatso beside thee may creep and cling, 

For the possible beauty that underlies 
The passing phase of the meanest thing ! 

What if God's great angels, Avhose waiting love 

Beholdeth our pitiful life below, 
From the holy height of their heaven above 

Couldn't bear with the worm till the wijigs 
should grow? 



REJOICE, MY FELLOAV PILGRIM. 267 



REJOICE, MY FELLOW PILGRIM. 



" For now is our salvation nearer than wlien we l)elievecl. 
Rom. xiii. 11. 



Rejoice, my fellow pilgrim, for another stage is 
o'er 

Of the weary homeward journey, to be trav- 
eled through no more ; 

No more these clouds and shadows shall darken 
all our sky; 

No more these snares and stumbling-blocks 
across our path shall lie. 

Rejoice, my fellow soldier, for another long cam- 
paign 

Is ended, and its dangers have not been met in 
vain; 

Some enemies are driven back, some ramparts 
overthrown. 

Some earnest given that victory at length shall 
be our own. 

Rejoice, my fellow servant, for another year is 
past ; 

The heat and burden of the day will not for- 
ever last ; 

And yet the work is pleasant nov/, and sweet 
the Master's smile ; 

And well may we be diligent through all our 
"little while." 



268 SUBMISSION. 

Rejoice, my Christian brother, for the race is 
nearly run, 

And home is drawing nearer with each revolv- 
ing sun; 

And if some ties are broken here of earthly 
hope and love, 

More sweet are the attractions of the better 
land above. 

The light that shone through all the past will 

still our steps attend ; 
The Guide who led us hitherto, Avill lead us to 

the end ; 
The distant view is brightening, with fewer 

clouds between — 
The golden streets are gleaming now, the pearly 

gates are seen. 

Oh! for the joyous meetings there, to meet and 
part no more ; 

Forever with the Lord and all the dear ones 
gone before ; 

New mercies from our Father's hand, with each 
new year may come. 

But that will be the best of all, a blissful wel- 
come home. 



SUBMISSION. 

" The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink 
it?"— JoHK xviii. 11. 

Musixa on all my Father's love, 
How sweet it is! 



SUBMISSION. 269 

Methouglit I heard a gentle voice : 

' ' Child, here's a cup, 

I've mixed it ; drink it up ;" 
My heart did sink — I could no more rejoice. 

" Father! dost thou not love thy child? 

Then why this cup?" 
* ' One day, my child, I said to thee, 

Here is a flower. 

Plucked from a beauteous bower; 
Didst thou complain, or take it thankfully? 

" One day I gave thee pleasant fruit. 

From a choice tree. 
How pleased — how grateful thou didst seem ; 

' Father,' thou saidst, ' I love 

Thee — grateful may I prove !' 
Thy heart was full — with joy thine eyes did 
beam. 

•' That flower was mine — that fruit was mine — • 

This cup is mine. 
And all that's in it comes from me." 

"Father! I'm still; 

Forgive my naughty will ; 
But what's the cup? may I look in and see?" 

" Thou see, my child! Thou must not see — 

Christ, only, saw 
His destined cup of bitter gall. 

Only believe, 

Meekly the cup receive, 
And know that love and wisdom mixed it all.' 



270 THE FULL SURRENDER. 

'• O Father! must it be?" 

' ' It 7?iust, my child. " 
" Then give the needed medicine; 

Be by my side ; 

Only thy face don't hide — 
I'll drink it all; it must be good — 'tis Thine." 



THE FULL SURRENDER. 

"I beseech yon, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, 
that ye present yonr bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable nnto 
God, which is your reasonable service.'"— Rom. xii. 1. 

O HEAVY hearted ! Gazing on the altar 

Whither thy Lord doth call, 
"Well may thy hand draw back, and footstep 
falter, 

Who bringest not tJiine all ! 

Alas ! who seeks from thee thy little giving 

Thou dost not surely see. 
Or thou hadst asked of Him that ' ' water liv- 
ing "— 

The ' ' gift of God " to thee ! 

All things are His — He taketli nought of plea- 
sure 

In costliest sacrifice ; 
But in the loving, willing heart the measure 

Of God's acceptance lies. 

How hath thy Saviour loved ? What hath He 
given — 
Counting not dear the cost — 



THE FULL SURREXDER. 271 

So He might Avin tliee to Himself and Heaven — 
The "far off "—" dead "—and "lost!" 

When there Avas none on earth that could de- 
liver, 
He (iame to set thee free ; 
He paid the ransom freely — and will never 



But so He hoiiglit thee — Avitli a love that stronger 

Than death poured out its soul; 
And now he pleads with thee, thine own no 
longer — 

"Wilt thou indeed be whole?" 

Where is thy faith? Seest thou in thy surrender 

More than thy Maker's due? 
Or art thou of thyself more wisely tender 

Than that tried love and true ? 

Why from His searching wilt thou still be hiding 

Thy tarnished treasure so? 
The gold and silver in His fire abiding 

No loss at all shall. knoAV. 

What if a fcAV poor fading flowers must perish? 

The hand that doth destroy, 
All manner of sweet fruits shall plant and cher- 

For His and thine OAvn joy! [ish 

Thy sin — the bitter root of all thy sadness — 

He will bear far aAvay ; 
And only asks that thou Avith joy and gladness 

Shouldst loAx^ Him and obey. 



272 WHAT THEN ? 

Is the way hard? Thy Saviour only leadeth 

Where He hath trod before ; 
"Perfect through sufferings!" and thy spirit 
needeth 

The bitter cup far more. 

Through tribulation and through fiery trial, 

In loving trust lie still ! 
Soon shall His pitying hand the outpoured vial 

With oil of gladness fill. 

He who so loved the dead, much more the living 

With tenderest arms enfolds. 
Himself he gave : and grace and glory giving, 

Now no good thing withholds. 

Bring then thine heart, and all thine heart's 
possessing, 
Hasten the sacrifice ! 
Look upward now, and watch the promised 
blessing 
Shower from the opening skies ! S. F. s. 



WHAT THEN? 

'*Bc thou faithful unto death, and I will give the: a crown ot 
life."— "Rev. ii. 10. 

Aftek the Christian's tears, 
After his fights and fears, 
After his weary cross, 
All things below but dross — 
AVhat then? 



COVEXAXT LOVE. 27? 

Oh! then — a holy cahii, 
Resting on Jesus' arm ; 
After this deepened love 
For the pure Home above. 

After this holy calm, 
This rest on Jesus'' arm, 
After this deepened love 
For the pure Home above — 
What then? 

Oh ! then — work for Him, 
Perishing souls to win ; 
Then Jesus'' presence near. 
Death's darkest hour to cheer. 

And when the work is done. 
When the last soul is won. 
When Jesus'' love and power 
Have cheered the dying hour — 
What then? 

Oh ! then — the Crown is given ! 
Oh ! then — the rest in Heaven ! 
Endless life in endless day, 
Sin and sorrow passed away. 



COVENANT LOVE. 

"And we know that all things work together for good to them 
that love (?oc?."— Ro:j:. viii. 28. 

All things, dear Lord ? Is there no thread of woe 
Too dark, too tangled, for the bright design? 

18 



274 COA'EXAXT LOVE. 

No drop of rain too heavy for tjie bow 
Set in the cloud in covenant Divine? 

I know that all Thy full designs are bright ; 

That darkest threads grow golden in Thy hand ; 
That bended lines grow straight — the tangled 
right — 

The bitter drops, all sweet, at Thy command. 

Command the sweetness! make the crooked 
straight ; 

And turn these dusty tangled threads to gold ! 
Swifter, dear Lord ! I cannot longer wait ; 

Faith has grown weary, longing to behold. 

I know the promise; but I crave the sight: 
I yearn to glimpse the beautiful design ; 

To hail the rose-tints of the morning light ; 
To watch the straightening of the bended line. 

Why these enigmas? AVherefore not receive 
Their bright solution? Then a voice drew 
near: 
'' Blessed are they who see not, yet believe!" 
And One I knew approached, and wiped my 
tear 

With Avounded hand, and sighed. Ah! then 

I fell 

Down on my knees, and held Him by the feet, 

And cried, my Lord ! My God ! All, all is well ! 

With Thee — the dark is light, — the bitter 

sweet! 

J. c. 



THE christian's WALK. 275 

THE CHRISTIAN'S WALK. 

" In hope of eternal life."— Titus i. 2. 

Christian ! walk carefully — danger is near, 
Work out thy j ourney with trembling and fear ; 

Snares from without and temptation within 
Seek to entice thee again into sin. 

Christian ! walk humbly, exult not in pride, 
All that thou hast is by Jesus supplied; 

He holdeth thee up, he directeth thy ways. 
To him be the glory, to him be the praise ! 

Christian! walk cheerfully — though the dark 
storm 

Fill the bright sky with the clouds of alarm I 
Soon will the clouds and the tempest be past, 

And thou shalt dwell safely with Jesus at last. 

Christian! walk steadfastly while it is light; 

Swift are approaching the shades of the night ; 
All that thy Master hath bidden thee do, 

Haste to perform, for the moments are few. 

Christian ! Avalk prayerfully — oft wilt thou fall 
If thou forget on thy Saviour to call ; 

Safe shalt thou walk through each trial and care 
If thou art clad in the armor of prayer. 

Christian! walk joyfully — trouble and pain 
Cease when the haven of rest thou dost gain; 

This thy bright glory and this thy reward : 
" Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 



27Q THE CHILD OX THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. 

THE CHILD ON THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. 

" Therefore, jndge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, 
who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and 
will make manifest the hidden counsels of the hearts ; and then 
shall every man have praise of God.'' — 1 Cor. iv. 5. 

Where liast thou been toiling all day, sweet 
heart, 

That thy brow is burdened and sad? 
The Masters Avork may make loeary feet, 

But it leaves the spirit glad. 

Was thy garden nipped with the midnight frosts, 
Or scorched with the mid-day glare? 

Were thy vines laid low, or thy lilies crushed, 
That thy face is so full of care? 

' ' No pleasant garden toils were mine , 

I have sat on the judgment-seat, 
AVhere the Master sits at eve, and calls 

The children around His feet." 

How earnest thou on the judgment-seat. 

Sweet heart, who set thee there ? 
'Tis a lonely and lofty seat for thee. 

And Avell might fill thee with care. 

" I climbed on the judgment-seat myself ; 

I have sat there alone all day. 
For it grieved me to see children around, 

Idling their life away. 

'•They wasted the Master's precious seed. 
They wasted the precious hours; 



THE CHILD ON THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. 277 

They trained not the vines, nor gathered the 
fruits, 
And they trampled the sweet, meek flowers." 

And what didst thou on the judgment-seat, 
Sweet hearty what didst tliou there ? 

Did the idlers heed thy childish voice? 
Did the garden mend for thy care? 

' ' Nay, that grieved me more : I called and 1 
But they left me there forlorn ; [cried, 

My voice was weak, and they heeded not. 
Or they laughed my ^vords to scorn." 

Ah! the judgment-seat w^as not for thee. 

The servants were not thine ; 
And the eyes which fix the praise and the blame, 

See farther than thine or mine. 

The voice that shall sound there at eve, sweet 
heart, 

Will not strive or cry to be heard; 
It Avill hush the earth and hush the hearts, 

And none will resist its word. 

'' Should I see the Master's treasures lost, 
The gifts that should feed His poor. 

And not lift my voice (be it weak as it may) 
And not be grieved sore?" 

Wait till the evening falls, sweet heart. 

Wait till the evening falls ; 
The Master is near and knoweth all — 

Wait till the Master calls. 



278 THE CHILD OlS THE JUDGMEJs^T-SEAT. 

But how fared tJiy garclon plot, SAVcet heart, 
Whilst thou sat on the judgment seat? 

Who watered thy roses, and trained thy vines, 
And kept them from careless feet? 

"Nay! that is saddest of all to me. 

That is saddest of all ! 
My vines are trailing, my roses are parched, 

My lilies droop and fall I" 

Go back to thy garden plot, sweet heart; 

Go back till the evening falls, 
And bind thy lilies, and train thy Aines, 

Till for thee the Master calls. 

Go make thy garden fair as thou canst. 

Thou workest never alone ; 
Perchance he whose plot is next to thine, 

Will see it, and mend his own. 

And the next may copy his, sweet heart, 

Till all grows fair and sweet ; 
And when the Master comes at eve, 

Happy faces His coming will greet. 

Then shall thy joy be full, sweet heart, 

In the garden so fair to see, 
In the Master's Avords of praise for all, 

In a look of His own for thee. 

MRS. CHAllUSS. 



NOT KJfOWING. 279 

NOT KNOWING. 

" By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place 
which he ehoiild after receive for an inheritance, obeyed ; and he 
went out, not knowing whither he went."— Heb. xi. 8. 

I Kxow not what shall befall me, God hangs a 

mist o'er my eyes, 
And so each step in my onward path He makes 

new scenes to rise, 
And every joy He sends me, comes as a strange 

and sweet surprise. 

I see not a step before me, as I tread on anoth- 
er year. 

But the past is still in God's keeping, the future 
. His mercy shall clear. 

And what looks dark in the distance, may 
brighten as I draw near — 

For perhaps the dreaded future has less bitter 
than I think. 

The Lord may sweeten the waters before I stoop 
to drink, 

Or if Marah must be Marah, He will stand be- 
side its brink. 

It may be He has waiting for the coming of my 

feet. 
Some gift of such rare blessedness, some joy so 

strangely sweet. 
That my lips shall only tremble with the thanks 

they cannot speak. 



280 THIS I DID FOR THEE, ETC. 

restful, blissful ignorance! 'Tis blessed not 

to know, 
It keeps me so still in those arms which will not 

let me go, 
And hushes my soul to rest in the bosom that 

loves me so ! 

So I go on not knowing; I would not if I might; 

1 would rather walk in the dark with God, than 

go alone in the light, 
I would rather walk with Him by faith, than 
walk alone by sight. 

My heart shrinks back from trials which the 

future may disclose, 
Yet I never had a sorrow but what the dear 

Lord chose. 
So I send the coming tears back with the Avhis- 

pered word, " JTe knows." 



THIS I DID FOR THEE— WHAT DOEST 
THOU FOR ME? 

Motto placed under a print of Christ on tbe Cross, in the study 
of a German minister. It is said that Count Zinzendorf was first 
taught love to the Saviour by reading this motto. 



"He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth 
live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them, and rose 
again."— 2 Coe. v. 15. 

I GAVE my lif6 for thee. 

My precious blood I shed. 
That thou might'st ransomed be, 



THIS I DID FOR THEE, ETC. 281 

And quickened from the dead. 
I gave my life for tliee ; 
What hast thou given for me? 

I spent long years for thee 

In weariness and woe, 
That one eternity 

Of joy thou mightest know; 
I spent long years for thee ; 
Hast thou spent one for me? 

My Father's house of light, 

My rainbow-circled throne, 
I left for earthly night. 

For wand'rings sad and lone ; 
I left it all for thee ; 
Hast thou left auglit for me? 

I suffered much for thee, — 
More than thy tongue can tell, 

Of bitterest agony, 
To rescue thee from hell; 

I suffered much for thee ; 

What dost thou hear for me? 

And I have brought to thee, 

Down from my home above, 
Salvation full and free, 

My pardon and my love ; 
Great gifts I brought to thee ; 
What hast thou brought to me? 

Oh, let thy life be given. 
Thy years for me be spent, 



283 • SUBMISSION. 

World fetters all be riven, 

And joy with suffering blent; 
Give thou thyself to me, 
And I will welcome thee ! 



SUBMISSION. 

Rest in the Lcrcl and wait patiently for Him.'"— Ps. xxxvii. 7. 

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee, 

Peaceful be ; 
When a chastening hand restrains thee, 

It is He ! 
Know His love in full completeness, 
Feel the measure of thy weakness, 
If He wound thy spirit sore, 

Trust Him more. 

Without murmur, uncomplaining. 

In His hand, 
Leave whatever things thou canst not 

Understand. 
Though the world thy folly spurneth, 
From thy faith in pity turneth. 
Peace thy inmost soul shall fill 

Lying still. 

Like an infant, if thou thinkest 

Thou canst stand 
Childlike, proudly pushing back 

The proffered hand — 
Courage soon is changed to fear, 
Strength doth feebleness ai^pear; 



SUBMISSION. 283 

In His love if thou abide 
He will guide. 

Fearest sometimes that thy Father 

Hath forgot? 
Though the clouds around thee gather, 

Doubt Him not ; 
Always hath the daylight broken, 
Always hath He comfort spoken. 
Better hath He been for years, 

Than thy fears. 

Therefore, whatso'er betideth, 

Night or day. 
Know His love for thee provideth 

Good alway; 
Crown of sorrows gladly take. 
Grateful wear it for His sake ; 
Sweetly bending to His will, 

Lying still. 

To His own thy Saviour giveth 

Daily strength; 
To each troubled soul that liveth. 

Peace at length. 
Weakest lambs have largest share 
Of the tender Shepherd's care ; 
Ask Him not, then, "when?" or "how?" 

Only how! 



284 THE MISSIO]JfARY. 

THE MISSIONARY. 

" Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves : be 
ye, therefore, wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."— Matt. 
X. 16. 

Who shall the willing witness be 

To sound the Gospel mystery? 

Who, with the standard pure unfurled, 

Will preach the grace that saves the world? 

What, thinkest thou, awaiteth thee 
AVho sayest. Here I am, send me ! 
The fields are white, the hands are few ; 
And work is pleasure in my view. 

Thy path so plain — thy crown so sure — 
Thou seemest eager to endure 
The cross of care and sweat of strife, 
In harvesting eternal life. 

Go forth! But with "the things behind," 
Leave not that discipline of mind 
Which is begun when faith begins,— 
The timely rod for secret sins ! 

Regardful of those inner deeps 
Where every infant giant sleeps, 
Thence never wholly to depart 
Till rules the Gospel all thy heart. 

And conscious there by sympathy 

Of every brother's misery, 

Acquit thee, through life's shifting scene, 

A follower of the Nazarene ! 



coMI^-G. 285 

And while thy labors outward flow, 

As words or acts thy message show, 

Thy all-sufflcient guerdon be, 

To rise with Him who died for thee ! r. 



COMING. 

'"At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the 
morniug/'—MARiv xiii. 35. 

* ' It may be in the evening, 

When the work of the day is done, 
And you have time to sit in the tv/ilight 

And watch the sinking sun, 
While the long bright day dies slowly 

Over the sea, 
And the hour grows quiet and holy 

With thoughts of me ; 
While you hear the village children 

Passing along the street. 
Among those thronging footsteps 

May come the sound of my feet : 
Therefore, I tell you : Watch 

By the light of the evening star, 
When the room is growing dusky 

As the clouds afar; 
Let the door be on the latch 

In your home, 
For it may be through the gloaming 

I will come. 

" It may be when the midnight 
Is heavy upon the land, 
And the black waves lying dumbly 
Along the sand ; 



286 coMixa. 

When the moonless night draws close, 
And the lights are out in the house ; 
When the fires burn low and red, 
And the watch is ticking loudly 

Beside the bed : 
Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, 
Still your heart must wake and watch 

In the dark room, 
For it may be that at midnight 

I Avill come. 

" It may be at the cock-crow, 
When the night is dying slowly 

In the sky, 
And the sea looks calm and holy, 

Waiting for the dawn 

Of the golden sun 

Which draweth nigh ; 
When the mists are on the valleys, shading 

The rivers chill, 
And my morning star is fading, fading 

Over the hill : 
Behold, I say unto you : Watch ; 
Let the door be on the latch 

In your home ; 
In the chill before the dawning, 
Between the night and morning, 

I may come. 

'• It may be in the morning; 

When the sun is bright and strong. 
And the dew is glittering sharply 

Over the little lawn ; 
When the waves are laughing loudly 
Along the shore. 



COMING. 287 

And the little birds are singing sweetly 

About the door; ' 

With the long day's work before you, 

You rise up with the sun, 
And the neighbors come in to talk a little 

Of all that must be done ; 
But remember that I may be the next 

To come in at the door, 
To call you from all your busy work 

For evermore ; 
As you work your heart must watch, 
For the door is on the latch 

In your room, 
And it may be in the morning 

I will come." 

So He passed down my cottage garden. 
By the path that leads to the sea, 

Till He came to the turn of the little road 
Where the birch and the laburnum tree 

Lean over and arch the way ; 

There I saw Him a moment stay, 
And turn once more to me. 
As I wept at the cottage door,. 

And lift up His hands in blessing- 
Then I saw His face no more. 

And I stood still in the doorway. 

Leaning against the wall, 
Not heeding the fair white roses, 

Though I crushed them and let them fall; 
Only looking down the pathway. 

And looking toward the sea, 
And wondering, and wondering 

When He would come back lor me ; 



288 coMiis'-G. 

Till I was aware of an Angel 

Who was going swiftly by, 
With the gladness of one who goeth 

In the light of God Most High. 

He passed the end of the cottage 

Toward the garden gate — 
(I suppose he was come down 
At the setting of the sun 
To comfort some one in the village 

Whose dwelling Avas desolate) — • 
And he paused before the door 

Beside my place, 
And the likeness of a smile 

Was on his face : 
''Weep not," he said, "for unto you is given 

To watch for the coming of His feet 
Who is the glory of our blessed heaven ; 

The work and watching will be very sweet, 

Even in an earthly home ; 
And in such an hour as you think not 
He will come." 

So I am watching quietly 

Every day. 
Whenever the sun shines brightly, 

I rise and say : 
"Surely it is the shining of His face!" 
And look unto the gates of His high place 

Beyond the sea; 
For I know He is coming shortly 

To sumra.on me. 
And when a shadow falls across the window 

Of my room, 



WORKIXG FOR JESUS. 289 

Where I am working my appointed task, 
I lift my head to watch the door and ask 

If He is come ; 
And the Angel answers sweetly 

In my home : 
" Only a few more shadows, 

And He will come. " B. M. 



WORKINGS FOR JESUS. 

"I will direct their work in trwth, and I will make an everlast- 
ing covenant with them."— Is. Ixi. 8. 

'Tis sweet to work for Jesus, 

In this life's little day; 
To spread around the "joyful sound," 

As those forgiven may : 
To tell His loving-kindness, 

His promises so true ; 
To urge the young, that they may come 

And trust this Saviour, too. 

'Tis sweet to work for Jesus : 

Be this our one desire. 
Our purpose still to do His will, 

Whatever He require. 
No action is too lowly. 

No work of love too small ; 
If Christ but lead, we may, indeed, 

WqW follow such a call. 

'Tis sweet to work for Jesus, 

While our weak spirits rest. 
In His own care, safe sheltered there, 

x\3id v>^ith His presence blessed 



290 THE GUIDIIS'G HAND. 

In such calm, happy moments, 

No greater joy we know : 
Eedeemed from sin, we live for Him, 

To whom our all we owe. 

'Tis sweet to work for Jesus — 

Oh, weary not of this I 
But onward press with cheerfulness. 

Though rough the pathway is. 
Hold on unmoved and patient, 

'Till He shall call thee home, 
"With joy to stand at God's right hand, 

To serve before the throne. 



THE GUIDING HAND. 

"And the Lord shall guide thee contmually. and satisfy thy 
Boul in drought."— Is. Iviii. 11. 

"Is this the way, my Father?" " 'Tis, my child, 
Thou must pass through the tangled, dreary 

wild, 
If thou Avouldst reach the city undefiled, — 
Thy peaceful home above." 

' ' But enemies are 'round !" ' ' Yes, child, I know 
That where thou least expectest, thou'lt find a 

foe, 
But, victor thou shalt prove o'er all below, — 
Only seek strength above." 

' ' My Father, it is dark I" " Child, take my hand ; 
Cling close to me, — I'll lead thee through the 

land; 
Trust my all-seeing care, — so shalt thou stand 
'Midst glory bright above. " 



HARVEST HOME. 291 

*'My footsteps seem to slide!" ^' Child, only 

raise 
Thine eyes to me, then in these slippery ways 
I will hold up thy goings ; thou shalt praise 
Me for each step, above," 

"O Father, I am weary!" "Child, lean thy 

head 
Upon my breast ; it was my love that spread 
Thy rugged path ; hope on still, till I have said 
Rest, — rest for aye above." j. b. m. 



HARVEST HOME. 



"In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold 
not thine hand, for thou linowest not whether shall prosper, 
either this, or that, or whether they both shall he alike good."— 
EccLES. si. G. 



Sow in the morn thy seed. 

At eve hold not thy hand ; 
To doubt and fear give thou no heed ; 

Broadcast it o'er the land. 

Beside all Avaters sow. 

The highway furrows stock ; 

Drop it where thorns and thistles grow, 
Scatter it on the rock. 

The good, the fruitful ground. 

Expect not everywhere ; 
O'er hill and dale, by plots, 'tis found; 

Go forth then, everywhere. 



292 USEFUL ACCORDIXG TO GOD'S WILL. 

Thou knowcst not which may thrive, 

The late, or early sown ; 
Grace keeps the precious germ alive, 

When, and wherever strown ; 

And duly shall appear, 
In verdure, beauty, strength. 

The tender blade, the stalk, the ear, 
And the full corn at length. 

Thou canst not toil in vain ; 

Cold, heat and moist and dry, 
Shall foster and mature the grain 

For garners in the sky. 

Hence, when the glorious end, 

The day of God is come, 
The Angel reapers shall descend. 

And heaven cry, "Harvest Home!" 

JAMES MOIfTGOMERY 



USEFUL ACCORDING TO GOD'S WILL. 

" Lord, bear my voice ; let Thine ears be attentive to the voic« 
of my supplications.'"— Ps. cxxx. 2. 

Let me not die, before I've done for Thee 
My earthly work, wliatemr it may be. 
Call me not hence, with mission unfullEilled ; 
Let me not leave my space of ground untilled ; 
Impress this truth upon me, that not one 
Can do my portion, that I leave undone. 



"get thy spindle," etc. 293 

Then give me strength all faithfully to toil; 
Converting barren earth to fruitful soil. 
I long to be an instrument of Thine 
For gathering worshipers unto Thy shrine ; 
To be the means one human soul to save 
From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave. 

Yet most I want a spirit of content, 

To work where'er Thou'lt wish my labor spent ; 

Whether at home, or in a stranger's clime, 

In days of joy, or sorrow's sterner time; 

I want a spirit passive, to lie still 

And by Thy power, to do Thy holy will. 

And when the prayer unto my lips doth rise, 
"Before a new home doth my soul surprise, 
Let me accomplish some great work for Thee," 
Subdue it. Lord! let my petition be, 
" O make me useful in this world of Thine 
In ways according to Thy will, not mine .'"' 



"GET THY SPINDLE AND THY DISTAFF 

READY, AND GOD WILL SEND 

THEE FLAX." 

" Blessed is that servant, whom his Lord, when He cometh, 
Bhall find so doing."— Luke xii. 43. 

Place the spindle, hold the distaff, 

Waiting one ; 
Ply thy hands as at the spinning 

To be done. 
And in full, abundant measure, 
God will give, in His good pleasure 
Flax for all thv need. 



29,4 "get thy spindle," etc. 

Stand not thou so idly lingering, 

Faithless one; 
Mourning want of flax for labor 

To be done ; 
Up ! and gird thyself for duty, 
And thy work shall grow in beauty, 
'Till God says — " Complete 1" 

Art thou longing for a mission 

In the earth? 
For a noble, high endeavor, 

Springing into birth ? 
Let thy dreams be wrought in living, 
And thy God, by richly giving, 
Will thy needs supply. 

If thy heai-t be nerved for doing, 

Thou shalt find 
All around thee, in thy pathway. 

Poor and blind. 
Take, and lead them to the glory 
Shining out from Calvary's story; 
Lift them from their sin. 

List ! the sounds of the great city ! 

Wailings sore 
Rise from young and stricken children 

Evermore. 
They are crying in their sorrow, 
" Oh, the weary, sad to-morrow 
Cometh as to-day ! 

'Let us die! the grave is quiet 
In its rest ; 



"get thy spi^^dle," etc. 295 

Want and crime, with clutcliing fingers, 

Never tliere molest. 
Who would live ? The earth is dreary, 
And our hearts are very weary 
In our toil and woe. 

Love ? AVe know not what it meaneth ! 

But the frown 
Of our mothers, and their curses 

Weigh us down. 
Our child-laughter — hushed its tone — 
'Tis the echo of a moan ; 
Let us quickly die I" 

Dare ye stand in idle lingering, 

Christian one? 
Mourning want of flax for labor 

To be done? 
Lo! the. flax which God hath given; 
Shall not some soul find his Heaven 
Through your tears and toil? 

Lead these sorrowing, blinded children 

To the light; 
Let love lift the heavy shadows 

From their sight ; 
Train their voices to sweet laughter. 
And their souls for glad hereafter 
In the sunny skies. 

And when thou hast finished labor, 

At His word 
For thy work, complete in beauty, 

Shall be heard 



296 THE CROSS BEFORE THE CROWjS". 

Tones of love, in golden measure, — 
' ' Child, it is thy Father's pleasure, 
Rest for aye in heaven," 

ANNA MOI^TAGUE. 



THE CROSS BEFORE THE CROWN. 

" For our light affliction, wliich is but for a moment, worketh 
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."— 2 Cob. 
iv. 17. 

Our light afflictions, which a moment last. 
Oft brings the joys of future glory down; 

They promise give of life, when time is past, 
They bid us wait — the cross, before the crown. 

O'er quiet seas we sail not to our rest ; 

The skies above us oft with tempests frown, 
Yet they who suffer with their Lord are blest ; 

He bore the cross, before He wore the crown. 

What though the rough winds shake thy fragile 
bark, 

And many waters threaten thee to drown ; 
God speaks to thee in voice of mercy — hark ! 

Trust thou in Him : the cross before the crown. 

J. WESLEY CARHART, D.D. 

" Stay not to choose thy path 
Shrink not from heat or cold ; 
'Sow by all waters,' the Master saith — 
Then nourish the seed hy praye?' and faithf 
And thou'lt gather a hundred fold." 



WORKING WITH THEE. 297 

WORKING WITH THEE. 

" And let us not be weary in well doing ; for in due season we 
shall reap, if we faint not."— Gal, vi. 9. 

Working, O Christ, Avith Thee, 

Working with Thee, 
Unworthy, sinful, weak. 

Although we be ; 
Our ail to Thee we give. 
For Thee alone would live, 
And by Thy grace achieve — 

Working with Thee. 

Along the city's waste. 

Working with Thee ; 
Our eager footsteps haste, 

Like Thee to be ; 
The poor we gather in. 
The outcasts raise from sin. 
And labor souls to win — 

Working with Thee. 

The little ones we greet, 

Working with Thee ; 
And oft Thy words repeat, 

"Come unto me." 
From sorrow, want and gloom, 
We bid them welcome home, 
Beneath our sheltering dome — 

Working with Thee. 

Saviour, we weary not 

Working with Thee, 
As hard as Thine, our lot 

Can never be. 



298 THli; VISIONARY. 

Our joy and comfort this — 
Thy grace sufficient is ; 
This changes toil to bhss, 
Working with Thee. 

So let us labor on, 

Working with Thee, 
'Till earth to Thee is won, 

From sin set free, 
'Till men, from shore to shore 
Receive Thee, and adore. 
And join us evermore. 

Working with Thee. 

MRS. H. E. BRO^'N. 



THE VISIONARY. 

"Awake, tbou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and 
Christ shall give thee light."— Eph. v. 14. 

Ah, could I do, instead of dream, 
Life would flow on, — a placid stream — 
Amid bright flowers, and golden sheaves. 
Where now there groweth naught but leaves. 

In vain I sigh, and sadly pine 
For gifts that never can be mine ; 
While the one talent God has lent 
Lies idle, or still worse, misspent. 

How brightly once did each day bring 
The gracious promises of spring ! 
But summer comes, the fields are bare, 
Autumn will find no harvest there. 



THE VISIOIS-ARY. 299 

Within the vineyard of the Lord, 
I hear, but fail to heed His word. 
Useless I wait, while other hands 
Fulfill His wise and just commands. 

The sons of want are faint and weak, 
Kind words of cheer I do not speak ; 
My heart can pity all their grief. 
But friends more prompt, bear them relief. 

I little thought that such Avould be 
The destiny decreed for me ; 
Always to find the words, "Too late," 
Inscribed upon each close-barred gate. 

And yet I know that other hands 
Can loose with ease, those iron bands ; 
That other feet can proudly climb. 
The steep ascent, to heights sublime. 

It is my fate to wait below 
And watch them as they upward go ; 
Yet feel the while / might have gained 
The goal to which tliey have attained. 

Alas ! that life can never bring 
A second youth — an after spring. 
Once Avasted, it returns no more — • 
Its hoi)es and dreams forever o'er. 

But in yon world of cloudless light, 
Where life is love, and faith is sight, 
God grant some humble place may be 
E'en for a cumberer like me. 

KATE CAMEROJJ". 



300 GIVE MK SOME AVORK TO DO. 



GIVE ME SOME WORK TO DO. 

" And whosoever sliall give to drink unto one of these littla 
ones, a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, verily, I 
fciiy unto you, He sliall in no wis3 lose his reward."— Matt. x. 42. 

Give me some work to do ! the reapers soon 
Will come rejoicing, bringing home their 
sheaves, 
And I, of all their number, I alone 

Have naught to offer but these withered 
leaves, 
With shame and penitence I tarn to Thee 
And pardon crave — O Master! pity me. 

The name of servant I unworthy bear; 

A servant should his master's work pursue, 
But I have loitered in the gardens fair 

And to my task been faithless and untrue; 
The cool, refreshing morn, and the rich noon 
I've idled all away, and eve comes soon. 

Others I've seen go forth unto their toil 
With willing step, and steady, patient hand, 

Scattering the golden grain upon the soil 
Which soon shall yield its harvest full and 
grand ; 

But I, O Lord! what shall I say to Thee? 

For my weak indolence I have no plea. 

When the sun shone, and skies with hope were 
blue, 
And flowers breathed their fragrance all 
around. 



THE LITTLE CLEFT. 301 

When influence smiled on me, and friends v/ere 

true, 
And my vain heart with love's bright chain 

was bound, 
T ivoiild not toil, and from the field withdrew — 
But now I cry, " Give me some work to do!" 

Non\ when the spring is past, and summer 's 
gone. 
And autumn, sear and gray, with frosty hand 
Smites low each floweret fair, and friends have 
flown. 
And I can call to me no loving hand 
To shield me from the storm of pain and woe — 
Noio, Lord, I cry, " Give me some work to do I'' 

Give me some w^ork to do ! I know that Thou 
Who watchest o'er the humble sparrow's fall. 

Wilt from Thy throne of light and glory bow 
To answer lovingly whene'er I call ; 

Then let me glean from Thee at least one sheaf, 

Ere winter brings the laborer relief. 

AMY A. HEADLEY. 



THE LITTLE CLEFT. 

" Thou art my liiding-place ; Thou shalt preserve me from trou 
ble ; Thou shalt compass anc about with songs of deliverance."- 
Psw xsxii. 7. 

I CREEP within the crimson cleft. 
And there my sin and sorrow hide, 

The little place that still is left 
For mc, within that wounded side. 



302 SELF-EXAMINATIOi!f 

The little cleft, where thousands sought 
A place oi refuge long before ; 

Whose pity-dropping stream hath bought 
A refuge for ten thousand more. 

A little cleft ! However cold 
The pathway here, however bare, 

No living tongue hath ever told 

Of all the Avarmth and fullness there. 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 

" For we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Chrfst ; 
tbat every one may receive the things done in his body, accord- 
ing to that he halh done, whether it be good or bad."— 2 Cor. 
V. 10. 

What hast thou done to-day for God? 

Answer, O soul of mine I 
AVhat thorny pathway hast thou trod, 

Trusting in strength divine ? 
What gift upon the altar laid. 

Of all that was most dear? 
Or hast thou meagre tribute paid, 

With less of love than fear? 

What hast thou done for God to-day ? 

Answer, my wayward heart ! 
The temx)ter lurking round thy way, 

O didst thou bid depart? 
Or, hast thou fallen in his snare. 

And sold thyself to sin? 
Forgetting that by Faith and Prayer 

The conquest thou might'st win? 



IIEMEMBER THE POOR. 303 

To-day for God what liast thou done? 

I ask thee, restless mind ! 
Shouldst thou soar upward to the sun, 

Yet peace thou couldst not find. 
O hast thou wasted all thy powers 

Upon this fleeting earth? 
Or cast away the precious hours, 

Unmindful of their worth? 

Ah! powerless are our best resolves 

If in ourselves w^e trust ; 
Our strongest puri^ose soon dissolves, 

As dust returns to dust. 
God grant that ere our life grow dim, 

Our greatest joy may be 
To spend our days in serving Him 

That we His face may see ! 

KATE CAMERON. 



REMEMBER THE POOR. 

"Blessed is he that considereth the poor : the Lord will deliver 
him in time of trouble.'"— Ps. sli. 1. 

Ah! when ye sit by your bright warm fire, 
Through the evenings cold and long. 

Think of the numbed and shivering poor, 
The children of want and wrong. 

And when ye gather around the board, 

Covered with viands rare, 
Remember the squalid, famishing crew, 

Wlio search the gutters for fare. 



304. THE LITTLE CLOUD. 

When ye watch, with a mother's fond deh'ght, 
Your lovely babe's bright charms, 

Think of the starving infants, clasped 
In shrivelled, trembling arms. 

When ye gaze with pride on your little band, 

Of children glad and bright, 
In a happy home, by loving hearts, 

Guarded from care and blight. 

Think of the children who roam the streets, 

Older in crime, than years ; 
Think of the home that shelters them — 

Think of its woes and fears. 

When the nightly prayer is softly said, 
And the bright eyes closed for sleep, 

Remember the children who never pray, 
And for them pray and weep. 

And give to them as God gives you ; 

For He tells us in His Word, 
That what we give to the needy X)Oor, 

Is lent unto the Lord. 

MKS. SARAH S. SOCWELL. 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 

" What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know here- 
after."— John xiii. 7. 

Take courage — 'tis but a little cloud, 
That s'oon will pass taway; 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 305 

The hearts that now with grief are bowed 

May only grieve to-day — 
To-morrow, up the azure height 

The sun may dart his beam, 
And then one joyous burst of light 

O'er mount and vale and stream. 

When thwarted plans and baffled hopes 

Become our only store. 
And the crushed spirit barely copes 

AVith ills unknown before ; 
Despond not — yet the tide will turn, 

The gales propitious play ; 
Take courage — 'tis a little cloud 

That soon will pass away. 

When doubts eclipse the ray of joy. 

And fears their shadows cast. 
When rugged seems the way to bliss, 

And foes come crowding fast. 
Faint not — a mightier power than thine 

Is pledged those foes to stay ; • 
Light shall at last for thee be sown, 

The clouds shall pass away. 
And shades there not the vale of Death 

A cloud of sombre fold? 
Yes — ^but the eagle eye of faith 

Detects the streak of gold. 
Those radiant tints shall wider spread, 

And form one burnished sea, 
'Till thine at last, triumphant saint, 

Is immortality. 



20 



306 THE CRUSE THAT FAILETH NOT. 

THE CRUSE THAT FAILETH NOT. 

"It is more blessed to c:ive, than to receive.'"— Acts xx. 35. 

Is thy cruse of comfort wasting? rise and share 
with another, 

And through all the years of famine, it shall 
serve thee and thy brother ; 

Love divine will fill thy storehouse, or thy hand- 
ful still renew; 

Scanty fare for o>2,e,will often make a royal feast 
for two. 

For the heart grows rich in giving ; all its wealth 

is living grain ; 
Seeds, which mildew in the garner, scattered, 

fill with gold the plain. 
Is thy burden hard and heavy? Do thy steps 

drag wearily ? 
Help to bear thy hrothefs burden; God will 

bear both it and thee. 

Numb and weary on the mouiltains, wouldst 
thou sleep amidst the snow? 

Chafe that frozen form beside thee, and togeth- 
er, both shall glow. 

Art thou stricken in life's battle ? many wounded 
round thee moan ; 

Lavish on their wounds thy balsams, and that 
balm shall heal thine own. 

Is the heart a well, left empty? None but God 
its void can fill ; 

Nothing but a ceaseless fountain, can its cease- 
less longings still. 



THE SOWER. 307 

Is the heart a living power? Self-entwined, its 

strength sinks low ; 
It can only live in loving, and by serving love 

will grow. 

MRS. CHARLES. 



THE SOWER. 

Luke viii. 5-8. 

A. SOWER went forth to sow 
Good seed in the fertile ground ; 
And, as he soAved, by the eddying wind 
'Twas scattered far around. 

Some fell by the highway side, 
And were crushed by trampling feet ; 
And the birds devoured them as they fell 
On the hard and dusty street. 

Some fell on the stony ground ; 
And quickly the blade sprang forth, 
Yet could not pierce, with its slender roots, 
The parched and sterile earth. 

And the sun arose, and at noon 
Poured down its scorching ray, 
And the tender plant no moisture found. 
But withered quick away. 

Some fell among the thorns, 
And the seed sprang up and grew, 
Yet the choking thorns shut out the sun, 
And drank the rain and dew ; 
And when the reaper came, 
No perfect fruit he found. 



308 WEARY. 

For pale, and of sickly hue, it fell 
All worthless, to the ground. 

Yet of that precious seed, 
Some fell on goodly soil, [green 

And the root sank deep, and the blade sprang 
To bless the laborer's toil. 

Warmed by the sun, it grew, 
Expanding hour by hour, 
And fed by dews, it blossomed forth, 
Like Eden's garden flower. 

And the Reaper came and found 
Among the fragrant leaves. 
The golden fruitage, ripe and full, 
And he bound it in his sheaves. 
And he sang the harvest-song, 
With joy, like those of old; 
For the precious seed that was sown in hope, 
Brought forth "an hundred fold." 

H. A. s. 



WEARY. 

'•For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the 
will of God, ye might receive the promise."— Heb. x. 36. 

*' Weary of life's burden, 
I fain would lay it down ; 
Weary of the cross, 
I fain would wear the crown- 

' ' Weary of the conflict 
With myself and sin, 



WEARY. 309 

To Thy perfect rest 
I long to enter in. 

" Earth hath naught to charm me 
Naught to win my love ; 
Take me, O my Father, 
To my home above." 

He who ever hears, 

When His children cry, 
Bent, in pitying love. 

From His throne on high ; 

And, in tones which erst 

Stilled the tempest wild, 
Gently, tenderly 

Comforted His child. 

" Art thou seeking rest, 
Ere thy work is done? 
Asking for the crown. 
Ere it has been won? 

'• Wherefore mournest thou 
Thus so bitterly? 
Hast thou found life's burden 
All too great for thee? 

'' Is not its full weight 
To thy Father known ? 
Must thou needs rely 
On thy strength alone? 

*' Dost thou doubt my power? 
Dost thou question whether 



310 "AlfD TO EVERY MA:N HIS WORK.' 

We, my child, can bear it, 
Thou and I together? 

" O press lovingly, 

Closely to my side, 
That thine every burden 
I may then divide," 

Not upon my ear 
Fall these tones in vain ; 

Joyfully the cross 
I take up again ; 

Thankful, O my Father, 
Thankful for the load 

That hath brought me nearer, 
Nearer to my God. 



S. J. BURKE. 



"AND TO EVERY MAN HIS WORK." 

"• Commit thy way nuto the Lord : trust also in Him, and He 
shall bring it to pass." — Ps. sxxvii. 5. 

The low tuft grass is not a stately tree, 
Nor yet a lovely and all-fragrant rose ; 
It yields no nectar to the grateful bee. 
Nor fashions, for their transit o'er the sea 
The hearts of oak, revered by friends and foes. 

But think of it as lightly as you will. 
Passing it over in your careless tread. 

It has its own peculiar place to fill ; 

And humble as its work appeareth, still 
Nor oak, nor rose, could do that work instead. 



THE CROSSINa SWEEPER. 311 

So, youthful Christian, thro' life's transient day, 

There is a special work marked out for you; 
It may be of the lowest kind : it may 
Be such as shall the loftiest powers display. 
But none besides yourself your Vv^ork can do. 

Then bend in meekness at your Saviour's throne 

And seek to learn the purpose of His grace ; 
Ask Him who has so oft your duty shown, 
To point you out the work that is your own. 
And tell you where to find your proper place. 

' ' What wilt thou have me do ?" With single eye 
To your Redeemer's glory, work for Him ; 

Illumined every moment from on high; 

Strive in each action, God to glorify, [dim. 

Nor let one thought of self, life's radiance 

Work, work! nor covet an ignoble rest; 

Allow no sloth, thy spirit to beguile. [best; 
Those love the Saviour most, Avho serve Him 
And he who blesses others, shall himself be 
blessed. 

With the full sunshine of the Saviour's smile. 



THE CROSSING SWEEPER. 

" He that hath pity upon the poor, lencleth unto the Lord ; and 
that which he hath given, will he pay him again."— Prov. xix. 17. 

A RAGGED girl swept on the Avenue crossing; 

Numb were her fingers, for bleak was the air; 
All the day long, in her faded brown tatters — 

Thus ran her musings: such was her prayer: 



312 THE CROSSING SWEEPER. 

"How joyous and free are those creatures of 
pleasure, 
How splendid their trappings of lace and 
of gold! 
To them is the same, whether morning is 
balmy, 
Or winter blast chills every frame with its 
cold. 

" Wlien I ask for a pittance from lady or dandy, 
Each covered with diamonds of value un- 
told— 
'Go away,' is the answer, as I were a pesti- 
lence. 
Yet all my fault is, I suffer from cold. 

"The rich have their pillows, so soft and so 
downy. 
Their limbs are all covered with many a fold, 
My bed is of straw, and there is but one 
blanket, 
I cannot use that, lest my mother be cold. 

" O God! is it ever my weak bones must shiver, 
And I be despised by the proud and the 
bold? 
Oh, yes! for I've read that my Saviour, so 
precious, 
Was shelterless born, with no mantle from 
cold!" 

And so the poor sweeper went on with her toil- 
ing, 
The fever was burning with heat uncontrolled : 



THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL. 313 

Till tearless, unfriended, unknown to the mil- 
lions. 
Her pulses ceased beating! She di(jd in the 
cold! 

The storm-cloud is thickened, the snow-drops 
are falling, 
A spirit has gone, but the bells are not tolled, 
The minions of pleasure still glide o'er the ave- 
nue — 
Angels are clasping a child from the cold. 

Oh, millions would noiu give not merely a pit- 
tance. 

But all that they covet of treasure and gold. 
To whisper such songs in the chancels of heaven 

As come from the lips of that child of the cold. 



THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL. 

" The memory of the just is blessed."— Pkov. x. 7. 

Up and away, like the dew of the morning, 
Soaring away to its home in the sun ; 

So let me steal away, gently and lovingly. 
Only remembered by what I have done. 

My name and my place and my tomb all for- 
gotten. 

The brief race of time well and patiently run, 
So let me pass away peacefully, silently. 

Only remembered by what I have done. 



314 THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL. 

Gladly away from this toil would I hasten, 
Up to the crown that for me has been won, — 

Unthought of by man, in rewards or in praises, 
Only remembered by what I have done. 

Up and away, like the odors of sunset 
That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes 
on, 

So be my life, a thing felt but iiot noticed, 
And I but remembered by what I have done. 

Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in fresh- 
ness. 
When the flowers that it comes from are 
closed up and gone. 
So Avould I be, to this world's weary dwellers, 
Only remembered by what I have done. 

Needs there the praise of the love-written re- 
cord? — 
The name and the epitaph graved on the 
stone? 
The things we have lived for, let the?}i be our 
story. 
We ourselves but remembered by what we 
have done. 

I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing 
(As its summer and autumn moved silently 
on) 
The bloom and the fruit, and the seed of its 
season, 
T shall still be remembered by what I have 
ione. 



KNEELING AT THE THRESHOLD. 315 

I need not be missed, if another succeed me, 
To reap down those fields which in spring I 
have sown. 
He who ploughed and who sowed is not missed 
by the reaper, 
He is only remembered by what he has done. 

Not myself, but the truth that in life I have 
spoken, 
Not myself, but the seed that in life I have 
sown, 
Shall pass on to ages,— all about me forgotten. 
Save the truth I have uttered— the things I 
done. 

So let my living be, so be my dying, 

So let my name be unblazoned, unknown, — 

Unpraised and unmissed, I shall yet be remem- 
bered. 
Yes— but remembered by what I have done. 

HORATIUS BONAR. 



KNEELING AT THE THRESHOLD. 

'• Lord, now lettest thou tby servant depart in peace, according 
to thy word."— Luke ii. 29. 

I'M kneeling at the threshold, Aveary, faint and 

sore; 
Waiting for the dawning, for the opening of the 

door ; 
Waiting till the Master shall bid me rise and 

come 
To the glory of His presence, to the gladness of 

His home ! 



316 KNEELING AT THE THRESHOLD. 

A weary path I've traveled, 'mid darkness, storia 

and strife, 
Bearing many a burden, struggling for my life; 
But now the morn is breaking, my toil will soon 

be o'er, 
I'm kneeling at the threshold, my hand is on the 

door. 

Methinks I hear the voices of the blessed as 

they stand 
Singing in the sunshine in the far-off, sinless 

land: 
Oh, would that I were with them, amid their 

shining throng. 
Mingling in their worship, joining in their song! 

The friends that started with me have entered 
long ago, 

One by one they left me struggling with the foe ; 

Their pilgrimage was shorter, their victory soon- 
er won ; 

How lovingly they'll hail me when all my toil 
is done ! 

With them the blessed angels that know no 

grief or sin, 
I see them by the portals prepared to let me in. 
O Lord, I wait thy pleasure ; thy way and time 

are best ; 
But I'm wasted, worn and weary, O Father, bid 

me rest. guthrie. 



THE WAY. 317 



THE WAY. 

'■•And they were in the way, goin^ up to Jerusalem ; and Jesua 
went before them ; and they were amazed ; and as they followed, 
they were afraid."— Mabk x. 32. 

I SAID, " O Guide, go forth: 

I will follow Thee anywhither." 
And behold, as we went over the earth, 
It was all June together. 

The sun steeped half the world in bliss. 

And the shadows steeped the rest in quietness. 

And I said, "I have heard of thy way, O Lord, 
How that it goeth dark through the dark. 

Fire and water, tumult and blood, 

Woes to be suffered, and foes withstood ; 

I have heard that the only way to Thee is over 
the flood. 

And now, O Lord, is this the way? 

For, behold, I tread smooth paths to-day; 

What if I loiter, and fail to win?" 

But He said, ' ' This is the way ; walk ye herein. " 

I spoke again, and said, ' ' I have heard 

That our joy-times here are quickly past, 
That the smooth paths are not long to tread. 
With the smile of the sun, and with song of 
the bird. 
But, Lord, how long shall this last?" 
"Not long," he said; 
"And see thou follow me afterward." 
Even at that moment, I slipped and sank. 
Slipped, and stumbled down the bank — 



318 THE WAT. 

Down the bank to a path beneath, 

Chill and dark as the shadow of death, 

"Lord!" I cried, "I have stumbled astray; 

Lead me back, Lord, into Thy way ; 

Out of the pitfall, out of the gin, 

Far from terror, safe from sin ; 

Hold Thou up my goings therein." 

But He said, ' ' This is the way : walk ye herein. " 

I went along to that shadow of death. 

Going and weeping under my breath. 

And whispering, said, ' ' It was better with me : 

Oh, better out on the sunny lea!" 

But He answered, "This is thy best, 

That thou follow me here, and unto rest." 

I said, ' ' O Master ! hoAv shall I know 

When my best is gladness, or woe? 

How shall I learn what Thy ways be?" 

And He said, ' " Leave that to me ; 

Follow me only whither I go, 

Through chilling shadow and scorching glow, 

Through desert-dust, and through battle-din, 

'Till the goal be reached, and finished the test: 

'Till the sorrow is passed, and the joy is best. 

'Till I say, This is my rest; enter herein." 

B. B. B. 



LOJ^-GIJfGS. 319 



LONGINGS. 

"My soul melteth for heaviness ; strengthen thou me, accoid- 
Ing unto thy Avord.'"— Ps. csLx. 38. 

Wheis" shall I be at rest? My trembling heart 
Grows weary of its burden, sickening still 
With hopes deferred. Oh, that it were thy 
will 
To loose my bonds, and take me wiiero Thou 
art! 

When shall I be at rest? My eyes grow dim 
With straining through the gloom. I scarce 

can see 
The way-marks that my Saviour left for me, 

Would it were morn, and I w^ore safe in heaven. 

When shall I be at rest? Hand over hand 
I grasp and climb even a steeper hill, 
A rougher path. Oh, that it were Thy will 

My tired feet might tread the promised land! 

Oh, that I were at rest! A thousand fears 
Come thronging o'er me, lest I fall at last. 
Would I were safe, all toil and danger past ; 

And Thine own hands had wiped aw^ay my 
tears. 

Oh, that I were at rest ! like some I love, 

AVhose last, fond looks drew half my life away, 
Seeming to plead that either they might stay 

With me on earth, or I with thoin above. 



320 JESUS OF U-AZARKTH. 

But why these murmurs? Thou didst never 
shrink 
From any toil or weariness from me — 
Not even from tliat last deep agony, 

Shall I beneath my trials sink? 

No, Lord ; for when I am indeed at rest, 

One taste of that deep bliss, will quite efface 
The sternest memories of my earthly race, 

Save but to swell the sense of being blest. 

Then lay on me whatever cross I need [be 

To bring me there. I know Thou canst not 
Unkind, unfaithful, or untrue to me ! 

Shall I not toil for thee, when Thou for me 
didst bleed? 



JESUS" OF NAZARETH. 

" Jesus of Nazarelti passcth by."— Luke xviii. 3T. 

"What means this eager, anxious throng. 
Passing our busy streets along — 
These wondrous gatherings day by day? 
What means this strange commotion, sa,y ? 
Voices in accents hushed, reply : 
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Who is this Jesus? Why should He 
The city move so mightily? 
A passing stranger, has He skill 
To charm the multitudes at will? 
Again the stirring tones reply : 
"Jesus of Nazareth pacscth by." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 821 

Jtisus! 'tis He who once below, 
Man's pathway trod, 'mid pain and woe, 
And burdened hearts wherein He came 
Brought out their sick and deaf and lame ; 
Blind men rejoiced to hear the cry: 
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Again He comes ! From place to place 
His holy footprints we can trace. 
He passes at our threshold — nay 
He enters — condescends to stay. 
Shall we not gladly raise the cry : 
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

Ho ! all ye heavy laden, come ! 
Here's pardon, comfort, rest and home. 
Lost wanderers from a Father's face 
Return, accept His proffered grace. 
Ye tempted, there's a refuge nigh, 
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." 

But if you still this call refuse. 
And do such wondrous love abuse. 
Soon will he sadly from you turn. 
Your bitter prayers for pardon spurn. 
"Too late! too late!" will be the cry — - 
Jesus of Nazareth lias passed hyT 



322 THE christian's coi^flict. 



THE CHRISTIAIS'S CONFLICT. 

" Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that yo 
may be able to withstand in the e\il day, and having done all to 
stand."— Eph. vi. 13. 

How goes tlie fight with thee? 
The hfe-long battle with all evil things ? 
Thine no low strife, and Thine no selfish aim ; 
It is the war of giants and of kings. 



This living fight with death and death's dark 
power? 
Is not the stronger than the strong one near? 
With thee and/or thee in the fiercest hour? 

Does it grow slacker now? 

Then tremble ; for, be sure, thy hellish foe 
Slacks not ; 'tis thou that slackest in the fight ; 

Fainter and feebler falls each weary blow. 

Dread not the din and smoke, 

The stifling poison of the fiery air; 

Courage ! it is the battle of thy God ; 

Go, and for Him learn how to do and dare ! 

"What though ten thousand fall, 

And the red field with the dear dead be strewn ; 
Grasp but more bravely thy bright shield and 
sword, 

Fight to the last, although thou fight'st alone. 



THE TIME FOR TOIL IS PAST. 323 

What though ten thousand faint, 

Desert, or yield, or in weak terror flee, 

Heed not the panic of the multitude ; 
Thine be the Captain's watchword — ^Victory! 

Look to thine armor well ! 

Thine the one panoply no blow that fears ; 
Ours is the day of rusted swords and shields, 

Of loosened helmets and broken spears. 

Heed not the throng of foes ; 

To fight 'gainst hosts is still the Church's lot : 
Side thou with God, and thou must win the day ; 

Woe to the man 'gainst whom hell flghteth not I 

Say not the fight is long ; 

'Tis but one battle, and the fight is o'er; 
No second warfare mars thy victory. 

And thy one triumph is for emrmore ! 



THE TIME FOR TOIL IS PAST. 

" Bringing our sheaves with us."— Ps. cxxvi. 6. 

The time for toil has past and night has come — 
The last and saddest of the harvest-eves ; 

Worn out with labor, long and wearisome, 
Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home. 
Each laden with his sheaves. 

Last of the laborers, Thy feet I gain. 

Lord of the harvest ! and my spirit grieves 
That I am burdened, not so much with grain, 
As with a heaviness of heart and brain ; — 
Master! behold my sheaves I 



3.24 THE TIME FOR TOIL IS PAST. 

Few, light, and worthless, yet their trifling 
weight, 
Through all my frame a weary aching leaves ; 
For long I struggled Avith my hapless fate. 
And stayed, and toiled, 'till it was dark and 
late — 
Yet these are all my sheaves ! 

Full well I know I have more tares than wheat, 
Bram^bles and flowers, dry sticks and with- 
ered leaves ; 
"Wherefore I blush and weep, as at Thy feet 
I kneel down reverently, and repeat, 
"Master, behold my sheaves!" 

I know the blossoms clustering heavily 
With evening dew upon their folded leaves, 

Can claim no value or utility ; 

Therefore shall fragrancy and beauty be 
The glory of my sheaves. 

So do I gather faith and hope anew ; 

For well I know Thy patient love perceives, 
Not what I did, but what I strove to do: 
And though the full ripe ears be sadly few. 

Thou wilt accept my sheaves ! 



TRUST. 325 



TRUST. 

" Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the 
voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness and hath no light ; 
let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God."— 
Is. 1. 10. 

Art thou struggling 'midst the darkness, toiUng 

on thy heavenward way? — 
Wait and hope, though gloom surround thee, 

and thou seest no dawning day; 
God will guide thy faltering footsteps, and at 

length, upon thy sight, 
Sunrise hues will brighten for thee — evening 

time shall be made light. 

ISTot by sight can be our walking, for our way is 

through the dark, 
And no outward signs or wonders should we 

ask the path to mark ; 
God's unfailing Word is surely staff enough on 

which to lean, 
As we journey to our portion, hoped for, longed 

for, yet unseen. 

Ah! if God designs to lead thee to his home of 
love and peace. 

He will teach thee, soon or later, from all earthly 
trust to cease ; 

He will take, though hard it seemeth, every 
other prop away. 

That thy trembling, shrinking spirit, on Him- 
self alone mav stav. 



326 SOMETHINa FOR JESUS. 

God will try thee, God will prove thee ; gold the 
crucible requires, 

None the less than human spirits do the purify- 
ing fires ; 

And his love will never spare thee any needful 
care or cross, — 

When thou losest an affliction, great indeed is 
then thy loss ! 

Cling but closer for the darkness to the hand 
that leadeth thee, — 

There are dangers, doubtless, round thee, thai 
'twould blind thine eyes to see ; 

He who guides thy trembling footsteps has Him- 
self this pathway trod, — 

thee, 
throned the "Mighty God." 



"SOMETHING FOR JESUS." 

" Do all to the glory of God."— 1 Cor. x. 31. 

SoMETHiisra for Jesus ! Oh, for His dear sake 
Thy brightest hopes and sweetest joys forsake; 
Counting with gladness, every pang and smart 
That binds thee closer to His bleeding heart. 

Something for Jesus ! Let the words entwine 
With every action, every word of thine ; 
For e'en thy daily thoughts, if brought to Him; 
Will be accepted as an offering. 

Something for Jesus ! As the stone of old 
It toucheth common life with threads of gold, 



WORDS OF CHEER. 327 

Brightening the lonely path of grief and care, 
And giving life an aim — to do, to bear. 

Something for Jesus! See, the words expand! 
As touched with meaning by a Master hand ; 
And new-born light reveals the secret power 
Of every moment, every passing hour. 

Something for Jesus ! Nothing is too small, 
Nothing too great to give, when He gave all; 
And simple service done as in His sight, 
Grows every day in length, and breadth, and 
height. 

Something for Jesus ! Lord, I long to be 
A living song of gratitude to Thee — 
A guiding light, a hand stretched forth to bless, 
A spirit covered with Christ's righteousness. 



WORDS OF CHEER. 

" Rejoicing in hope ; patient in tribulation ; continuing instant 
in prayer."— RoM. sii, 12, 

There is always something to cheer us, 

No matter how weary the pain ; 
Though dismal and dark be the night-watch, 

The morning will dawn soon again. 
There's a joy for each saddening sorrow, 

A smile for each glittering tear; 
Our hopes may be scattered like ashes. 

Yet Phoenix-like rise from their bier. 



328 THE SUFFERER CHEERED. 

Each cloud has of silver a lining, 

Though we may not see its light ; 
The sun has not ceased its shining, 

Though hiddeii awhile from our sight. 
Our way through the world may be cheerless, 

Our feet may be bleeding and torn, 
Yet sharp tho' the wild blast. He tempers 

The wind to the lamb that is shorn. 

Then cheer up, ye mortals, be hopeful. 

Despair not, though rough be the road ; 
God's grace is sufficient to aid you, 

No matter how heavy the load. 
Be faithful, and active, and earnest ; 

In idleness never sit down : 
The better the dark cross you carry, 

The brighter will sparkle your crown. 

WM. JOHNSON. 



THE SUFFERER CHEERED. 



"My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made per 
feet in weakness."— 2 Cor. sii. 9. 



" Say, shall I take the thorn away?" 

So spoke my gracious Lord, 
O'er which thy sighs are heaved by day, 

Thy nightly tears are poured. 
Say, shall I give thee rest and ease, 

Make earth's fair prospect rise, 
And bid thy bark in summer seas, 

Float smoothly to the skies? 



THE SUFFERER CHEERED. 329 

" Shall peace and plenty's cup swell high, 

Health leap through every vein, 
And all exempt thy moments fly 

From bitter inward pain? 
Be naught to check the inspiring flow 

Of human friendship's tide ; 
And every want thy heart can know, 

Be quickly satisfied? 

" Know, thine ease-loving heart might miss 

The comfort, with the care I 
And that full tide of earthly bliss 

Leave little room for prayer ! 
Few were thy visits to the throne, 

Unhastened there by pain ; 
Thou, o'er thy bosom-sins, alone, 

Would'st small advantage gain I 

" Nor deem the highest, holiest joy, 

A stranger still to woe ; 
Blest servants in my high employ, 

Most closely linked they go. 
My love illumes, with tenderest rays 

The path of self-denial ; 
And burning bright the glory's blaze 

That crowns the fiery trial?" 

In conscious weakness thou shalt hang 

On my almighty arm ! 
Soon as the thorn inflicts its pang, 

I'll pour my love's rich balm. 
Thou, plainest, in thy deepest woe. 

Shalt feel me at thy side ; 
And, for my praise, to all shalt show, 

Thou art well satisfied. 



330 WHY STAI^D YE HERE? 

*' Then, wilt tliou in thy Master's cup 

Consent awhile to share? 
Know, when in love I drank it up, 

No wrath wast left thee there ! 
Thy Saviour's love, and power to bless, 

Trust where thou canst not see ! 
And in yon howling wilderness 

Step fearless forth with me!" 

''Lord! magnify Thyself in me!" 

With faltering lips I said ; 
For, strong to bear as faith may be. 

Weak nature quails with dread. 
But He who through the shrinking flesh 

The Spirit's will can read. 
Smiled on His work, and bade afresh 

All Grace meet all my need. 



WHY STAND YE HERE? 

" Why stand ye here all the day, idle ?"— Matt. xx. 6. 

Two fields for toil, the outer and the inner, 

Both overgrown with weeds ; 
Who to the labor hastes, to be the winner 

Of all the laborer's meeds? 

To bathe in radiant mornings, daily spreading 

Over the heavens anew ; 
To sit 'neath trees of life, forever shedding 

Their bounteous honey-dew. 

To rouse a spirit, formed from God, from slum- 
And robe it for the light ; [ber. 

The heirs of heaven, from clay to disencumber, 
Which clogs their upward flight. 



WHY STAISJ) YE HERE? 331 

To lift a world, 'neath sin and sorrow lying, 

And "pour in oil and wine ;" 
To warble, in the dulled ears of the dying, 

Refrains of hymns divine. 

Work for a life-time, in each path upspringing 

In low, or lofty spheres ! 
Hark to the Master's summons, always ringing 

In quick and heedless ears ! 

Cool brain, strong sinew, heart with love o'er- 
Shall all in sloth escape? [flowing. 

Like vine, which fruitless, through his wanton 
Ne'er purples into grape ! [growing. 

The daylight wanes and dies — "Why stand ye 
Life hastens to its bourne ! [idle?" 

The bridegroom tarries — will ye greet the bridal, 
Or in the darkness mourn? 

Lo ! in the fields the yellow harvest drooping. 

As lilies in the rain ; 
Where are the reapers, that they come not 

To gather in the grain? [trooping 

Some, in the festive hall, desporting gaily; 

On slothful pillow some ; 
Some, in delays most blameful, and yet daily 

Exclaiming, " Lo, I come!" 

And some, infatuate, 'mid the alien's scoffing. 

Quarrel about their toil ; 
As wreckers, when ships founder in their offing, 

Grow murderous over spoil. 



332 WHO IS THY IfEIGHBOR? 

Meanwhile, the harvest waiteth for the reaping, 

God's patience hath not tired. 
Ye cannot say, extenuate of your sleeping, 

" We wait, for none hath hired." 

Through the hushed noontide hour, the Master 
Ye cannot choose but hear ; [calleth ; 

Still sounding, when the length'ning shadow 
" Wliy stand ye idle here?" [falleth, 

Up ! for awhile the pitying glory lingers ! 

Work, while it is yet to-day ! 
Then rest the Sabbath, rest, where angel singers 

Make melody for aye. 



WHO IS THY NEIGHBOR? 

" And he, willing to justify himself, said nnto Jesus, And who 
is my neighbor ?"— Luke x. 29. 

Thy neighbor? It is he whom thou 

Hast power to aid and bless ; 
Whose aching heart, and burning brow, 

Thy soothing hand may press. 

Thy neighbor? 'Tis the fainting poor, 

Whose eye with want is dim. 
Whom hunger sends from door to door — 

Go thou and succor him. 

Thy neighbor? 'Tis the weary man 

Whose years are at the brim, 
Bent low with sickness, cares and pain — 

Go thou and comfort him. 



CHRISTIAI^' SUBMISSION. 333 

Thy neighbor? 'Tis the heart bereft 

Of every earthly j em; 
Widow and orphan, helpless left — 

Go thou and shelter them. 

Thy neighbor? Yonder toiling slave, 

Fettered in thought and limb, 
Whose thoughts are all beyond the grave. 

Go thou and ransom him. 

Where'er thou meet'st a human form, 

Less favored than thine own, 
Remember 'tis thy neighbor worm, 

Thy brother, or thy son. 

Oh, pass not, pass not heedless by; 

Perhaps thou canst redeem 
The breaking heart from misery — 

Go share thy lot Avith him. 



CHRISTIAN SUBMISSION. 

" Oh, that I had the wings of a dove ; for then would I fly away 
and be at rest.''— Ps. iv. 6. 

" All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change 
come."— Job xiv. 14. 

Did I ask for the wings of a dove, 

That impatient from grief I might flee? 

Did I long to be soaring above, 
UncaJled, Lord, unbidden by Thee? 

UnAvilling to suffer below. 

Am I weary of doing Thy will? 
Would I hasten from labor and woe, 

^ov wait Thy designs to fulfill? 



334 HOLD THE LIGHT. 

Forgotten the privilege given, 

To suffer for Him I adore ; 
Would I fly, uninvited, to Heaven, 

Because I would suffer no more? 

Oh, cowardly feeling, away ! 

Far from me the impatient desire ; 
My God, I am willing to stay. 

And do all that Thy will may require. 

No ; had I the wings of a dove, 
I'd remain in the place where I am ; 

I would fold them in patience and love. 
And wait 'till my Saviour should come. 

If thou should'st look down from the skies. 
If thou should'st invite me to flee ; 

In a moment expanded they'd rise, 
And swiftly would bear me to Thee. 

CIIRISTIAIS' EXAMI^s'ER. 



HOLD THE LIGHT. 

" If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellow 
ship one with another ; and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son 
cleanseth us from all sin/'— 1 John i. 7. 

Ho! thou traveler on life's highway 

Moving carelessly along; 
Pausing not to watch the shadows 

Lowering o'er the mighty throng ! 
Stand aside, and mark how feebly 

Some are struggling in the flght, 
Turning on thee wistful glances, 

Begging thee to "hold the light I" 



HOLD THE LIGHT, 335 

Look upon thy right, a brother 

"Wanders blindly from the way ; 
And upon thy left, a sister, 

Frail and erring, turns astray — 
One kind word, perchance, may save them — 

Guide their wayward steps aright ; 
Canst thou, then, withhold thy counsel? 

No, but fly and "hold the light!" 

Hark ! a feeble wail of sorrow 

Bursts from the advancing throng; 
And a little child is groping 

Through the darkness, deep and long. 
'Tis a timid orphan, shivering 

'Neath misfortune's withering blight ; 
Friends, home, love, and all, denied her — 

Oh, in pity "hold the light!" 

Not alone from heathen darkness 

Where the pagan bows the knee, 
Worshiping his brazen image 

With a blind idolatry. 
Where no blessed Gospel teachings 

E'er illume the soul's dark night. 
Comes the cry to fellow-mortals, 

Wild and pleading, " Hold the light!" 

Here as well, in life's broad highway, 

Are benighted wanderers found; 
And if all the strong would heed them, 

Lights would glimmer all around. 
Acts of love, and deeds of kindness, 

Then would make earth's pathway bright, 
And there'd be no need of calling. 

Ho! thou traveler, " Hold the light!" 



336 BREAD ON THE WATERS. 



BREAD ON THE WATERS. 



" Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after 
many days."— Eccles. xi. 1. 



These crumbs cannot be 
The giving unto any; Jworth 

They are so small, I will not cast them forth, 

To loss, among so many 
Who are starving ! Ah, me ! my heart is sore 

To hear this bitter weeping! 
Ah, me ! ah, me ! to be so poor, 

And have no loaves in keeping 
For such hunger." 

Then the Master said, 
" Oh! thou unjust and sinning! 
Cast forth the crumbs I gave thee. They are 
Thou knowest, that thy beginning [bread ! 
I will fulfill : thy blindness cannot see 

Our Father's law of using; 
Nor ever, faithless child, gave I to thee 

The liberty of choosing 
What thou wouldst do with what is not thine 
But mine !" • [own, 

Then into the waters. 
From which came surging up eternal moan, 

Of starving sons and daughters, 
I threw, still faithless, and with shamed hands, 
My crumbs. 
The torrent sweeping 
Bore them aivay, and left me on the sand. 
Still faithless, shamed a,nd weeping. 



LIFT A LITTLE. 337 

The years went on, and on, until to me 

There came an hour, freighted 

"With hopeless woe, which darkened earth and 

And left me desolated [sea, 

In heart, and home, and substance. Even 

To cry for succor failed me ; [breath 

I said, in blasphemy, confronting death, 

" Not even God availed me!" 
Then sudden, in the chilling, rayless gloom 
Which all my way surrounded, 

A strange voice called me : 

' ' Food, and friends, and room, 
Our gratitude unbounded 
Makes ready, in glad haste for thee." 

I knew 
Not voice, nor hand extended ; 
Nor could remember name of one, who, through 
My help, had been befriended. 
" 'Tis not for me," I cried! 
Then the Master said : 

' ' Oh, child ! so slow in learning. 
These are the crumbs I gave thee, now in bread 
To thine own hand returning!" 

H. H. 



LIFT A LITTLE. 

" They helped every one his neighbor ; and every one said to 
his brother, Be of good courage."— Is. xli. 6. 

Lift a little ! Lift a little ! 
Neighbor! lend a helping hand 
To that heavy-laden brother, 
Who, for weakness, scarce can stand. 



WALKING IN WHITE. 

Wliat to thee, with thy strong muscle, 
Seems a light and easy load, 
Is to him a ponderous burden, 
Cumbering his pilgrim road. 

Lift a little! Lift a little! 
Effort gives one added strength ; 
That which staggers him when rising, 
Thou canst hold at arm's full length. 
Not his fault, that he is feeble, 
Not thy praise that thou art strong ; 
It is God makes live& to differ. 
Some for wailing, some for song. 

Lift a little ! Lift a little ! 
Many they, who need thine aid ; 
Many lying on the roadside, 
'Neath misfortune's dreary shade. 
Pass not by, like Priest and Levite, 
Heedless of thy fellow-man. 
But with heart and arms extended, 
Be the good Samaritan. 

AMY A. HEADLEY. 



WALKING IN WHITE. 

"And to her was granted tbat she should be arrayed in fine 
linen, clean and white ; for the fine linen is the righteousness of 
eaints."— Rev. xis. 8. 

Oh ! Lord my God ! 'tis early dawn. 
And I would walk with Thee to-day ; 

CAothe me in garments white and clean, 
All bright and beautiful, I pray. 



WAIiKIlS^G IN WHITE. 339 

Grant I may walk with greatest care, 
So I may keep their lustre bright ; 

To-day, my Father, hear m.y prayer, 
And let me walk with Thee in white. 

The road was thorny yesterday, 

Because I walked so far from Thee; 
Yet oft I heard Thee kindly say, 

' ' Come hither, child ! come near to me ; 
"With garments soiled on yester eve, 

I grieved to view the painful sight." 
To-day, my Father, oh, reprieve. 

And let me walk with Thee in white. 

Now may I plunge within the tide — 

That fount for all our guilt and woe 
Once opened in my Saviour's side — 

'Twill make my garments white as snow, 
With hands and feet, with head and heart 

All clean and pure before Thy sight. 
Not for one moment. Lord, depart. 

But let m.e walk with Thee in white. 

No thought, no word, no deed to-day, 

That may displease my blessed Lord ; 
No idle loitering by the way. 

But sweetly trusting in Thy word. 
Whate'er my hands may find to do, 

That may I do with all my might ; 
To-day, my Father, pure and true. 

Grant I may walk with Thee in white. 

The failures of the yesterday, 
The cares that may to-morrow come, 



340 WHAT HAST THOU GLEANED TO-DAY? 

Each tear, each fear, now chase away, 
And guide me on my journey home. 

And when the evening shadows fall 
And I come bending in thy sight, 

Then may I feel, my Lord, my all, 
That I have walked with Thee in white. 



WHAT HAST THOU GLEANED TO-DAY? 

" Thrust in thy sickle, and reap ; for the time is come for thee 
to reap."— Kev. xiv. 15. 

"What hast thou gleaned to-day, my soul, 

What hast thou gleaned to-day? 
Thou hast been where golden harvests gleam; 

Hast thou brought rich sheaves away ? 

Long, sunny hours have been thine own 

From morning light till eve. 
Say, in that royal harvest field 

Didst thou an impress leave? 

Some traces of the earnest toil 
With which thou'st gleaned to-day, 

Sorae spot made vacant by the sheaves 
Which thou hast borne away? 

Ah! 'tis a high and holy work 

To reap this harvest rare. 
Oh, hast thou thrust thy sickle in 

With humble, fervent prayer? 

Or, hast thou loitered all the day, 
Nor bound a single sheaf ? 



WHAT HAST THOU GLEAXED TO-DAY? 341 

If tliou hast wasted thus its hours, 
There's cause for bitter grief. 

For thee, to-morrow ne'er may dawn, 

'Nov harvests wave again ; 
Then work while it is called to-day. 

That life be not in vain. 

If when the '' Master " calls thee home, 

No precious sheaves thou bring, 
How wilt thou meet His saddened look, 

His frown, so withering? 

*' Oh, idler, in my field below, 

No gleanings hast thou brought? 
Then thy profession was in vain, 

AVith no rich fruitage fraught. 

'' Why, when I look for perfect fruit, 

Has it borne only leaves f 
Depart, thou cumberer of the ground. 

Who bound on earth no sheaves." 

Oh, soul of mine, awake — awaJce ! 

Begin with purpose high 
To daily bind some beauteous sheaf 

For garners in the sky. 

Within thy moral harvest-field 

Oh! help me, Lord, to toil. 
From morn 'till noon, from noon 'till eve. 

To gain some priceless spoil ; 

That when my working days are o'er, 

Rejoicing, I may come 
Bringing my sheaves, while angels gaze. 

And shout the "Harvest Home I" 



342 WEAVING. 



WEAVING. 



" For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of his Father, 
with his angels ; and then he shall reward every mi n according to 
his works."— Matt. xvi. 27. 



Standing in a comer, 

'Mid the dust and gloom, 
Day by day I'm weaving 

At my humble loom. 
Plain and coarse the fabric, 

And the hues are dim, 
But God gave the pattern, 

And I work for Him. 

Not for me the sunshine 

That on others falls, 
Who are weaving gaily 

In their stately halls ; 
Rich and rare the texture 

Of their web so fine ; 
How those gorgeous colors 

My dull tints outshine I 

But I will not murmur, 

Since my task is set 
By a loving Father, 

Who will not forget. 
He knows all the weakness, 

All the sin and care ; 
All the heavy burdens 

That His children bear. 



"is this the way?" 343 

When Life's thread is broken, 

Warp and woof complete, 
We shall lay these fabrics 

At our dear Lord's feet. 
None too plain and humble, 

None too dark and dim, 
If the work so faithful 

Has been wrought for Him. 

He will smile approval 

On the finished toil; 
He will call us upward, 

Far from Earth's turmoil. 
Joy to those who, waiting 

At Life's setting sun 
For the Master's coming. 

Hear His sweet ' ' Well done !" 

KATE CAMERON. 



IS THIS THE WAY?' 



'* I will lead them in paths that they have not known."— Is. 
slii. 16. 



Father, art Thou surely leading? 

Would'st Thou have me farther go 

In the path my feet are treading. 

Where the sharp stones pierce them through? 

Where a midnight shadow falleth. 
Without one enlivening ray? 
This the path, O God, that leadeth 
Upward to the perfect day? 



344 ''is this the way?" 

In my hands the gold has rusted ; 
From my side has quickly flown 
All that I had loved and trusted ; 
Now I tread the way alone. 

On my hopes a hand has fallen, 
Crushing idols formed of clay; 
Was it Thine, O God, that broke them, 
Is it Thine that leads the way? 

I can give up earthly pleasures, 
I can walk a dreary road. 
Over dead and buried treasures. 
If it be Thy will, O God! 

I will follow at Thy bidding; 
Only make the pathway plain ; 
Let me know that Thou art leading, 
I will never doubt again. 

All that I have loved and cherished, 
Take them — only be Thou near; 
On the spot where they have perished, 
Father, let Thy love appear — 

Let the shadows round me deepen. 
Only guide me through the gloom. 
Be the pathway rough, or even, 
Only, Father, lead me home. 

H. W. TELLER. 



WAiTme. 345 

BE FAITHFUL. 

" Moreover, it is required in stewards, that a man be found 
faithful."—! Cob. iv. 2. 

Be faithful, for the day is near 
When Christ with glory shall appear ; 
Be faithful, for thy life will be 
Guide to thy soul's eternity. 

Our God doth note, with careful hand, 

Each secret act, and it will stand 

A witness in that solemn day 

When heaven and earth shall pass away. 

O be thou faithful, and His power 
Shall guard thee in that fearful hour; 
Shall lead thee when all sorrows cease 
Where there is joy, and perfect peace. 

E. 



WAITING. 

"I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do 1 
hope." — Ps. cxxs. 5. 

I STOOD by the Master's vineyard 
In the light of the morning sun ; 

I thought of the day's sweet labor. 
And the great rewards to be won. 

For I longed to be up and doing 

In the harvest field so rare ; 
That my hands should be busy toiling, 

Plucking the clusters fair. 



346 WAITING. 

As I turned to enter the vineyard, 

The sound of coming feet 
Caused me to pause and listen, 

That the comer I might greet. 

And my Master stood before me, 
In the golden morning light ; 

His smile cast a heavenly radiance 
That blinded my mortal sight. 

But it entered my heart, and filled it 
With a love and a rapture sweet. 

I bowed me in glad adoration 
Before my Master's feet. 

And His words, like silvery music 
From the distant, starry sky, 

Came into my listening spirit 
An echo from strains on high. 

And thus spake the Master : ' ' Daughter, 

I know thy longing heart. 
In the toil of my rich-laden vineyard, 

Is eager to bear a part. 

*' But from thee no active labor 
Thy Master's cause demands ; 
Within thy low cottage doorway, 
Only sit with folded hands. 

"And the patient endurance of sorrow, 
And a burden sore of pain. 
Till I come with a welcome summons, 
Shall bring thee eternal gain." 



BEAR THE BURDEN OF THE PRESENT. 347 

So lie led me to my cottage, 

And left me within the door; 
But the brightness of His presence 

Stays with me for evermore. 

I see on the fair, sweet uplands, 
The pleasant vineyard ground ; 

And the echo of happy voices 
Comes to me, a cheering sound. 

I wait for his welcome footsteps ; 

Perchance they are coming to me. 
I watch for his radiant smiling, 

That I his face may see. 

And this, like a sweet bird, nestles 

In my heart, else desolate. 
" They also serve who patiently 

But fold their hands — and wait." 

ANNA MONTAGUE. 



BEAR THE BURDEN OF THE PRESENT. 

" As thy days, so shall thy strength be/'— Dectt. xxxiii. 23. 

Bear the burden of the present, 
Let the morrow bear its own ; 

If the morning sky be pleasant. 
Why the coming night bemoan? 

Pain, nor grief, nor any sorrow. 
Rends thy heart to God unknown ; 

He to-day, and He to-morrow, 
Grace sufficient gives His own. 



348 SUBMISSION. 

All unseen the Master walketh 
By the toiling servant's side ; 

Comfortable words He talketh, 
While His hands uphold and guide. 

Holy strivings nerve and strengthen, 
Long endurance wins the crown ; 

When the evening shadows lengthen, 
Thou shalt lay life's burden down. 



SUBMISSION. 



"Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord do- 
livereth him out of them all."— Ps. xxxiv. 19. 



God's right hand angel, bright and calm — 

Christ's strengthener in the agony — 
Teach us the meaning of that psalm 

Of fullness only known by Thee : 
" Thy will be done!" We sit alone, 

And grief within our heart grows strong 
With passionate moaning, 'till Thou come 

And turn it to a song. 

Come when the days go heavily. 

Weighed down with burdens hard to bear; 
Wlien joy and hope fail utterly. 

And leave us fronted by despair. 
Come not with flattering earthly light — 

But with those grand clear eyes that see 
Beyond the dark, beyond the bright. 

Straight toward Eternity. 



OUR PATTERI^. 349 

Teach us to work ! when work seems vain. 

This is half victory over fate — 
To match ourselves against our pciin ; 

The rest is done when we can wait. 
Unseal our eyes to see how rife 

With bloom this thorny path may be ; 
And how it leads to heights of life, 

Which only Thou canst see. 

Content thee — so the angel saitli — 

Thy minor makes the triumph strain 
Sound sweeter on celestial breath — 

And God has use for all thy pain. 
His joy thy struggling soul may reach; 

From the strong slain comes sweetness still ; 
And God lets suffering only teach 

Some best revealings of His will. 

Then strike within our hearts the key ! 

Thou^ only sorrow's note it give, 
Yet fit us for Thy harmony, 

And teach us how to li\'e ! 
Oh, patient. watcher over all! 

If broken lives may best complete 
Thy circle, let our fragments fall 

An offering at Thy feet. 

CARL SPEN^CER, 



OUR PATTERN. 

Lookins unto Jesus."— Heb. xii. 2. 



A WEAVER sat one day at his loom. 
Among the colors bright, 

With the pattern for his copying 
Hung fair and plain in sight. 



350 OUR PATTERN. 

But the weaver's thoughts were wandering 

Away on a distant track, 
As he threw the shuttle in his hand 

"Wearily forward and back. 

And he turned his dim eyes to the ground, 

And tears fell on the woof ; 
For his thoughts, alas! were not on his home, 

Nor the wife beneath its roof. 

When her voice recalled him suddenly 

To himself, when she sadly said : 
** Ah, woe is me! for your work is spoiled. 

And what shall we do for bread?" 

And then the weaver looked, and saw 

That his work must be undone ; 
For the threads were wrong, and the colors 

Where the bitter tears had run. [dimmed, 

"Alack, alack:" said the weaver, 

' ' And this had all been right 
If I hadn't looked at my work, but kept 

The pattern in my sight." 

Ah ! sad it was for the weaver. 

And sad for his luckless wife. 
And sad will it be for us, if we say, 

At the close of a Aveary life : 

' ' The colors that we had to weave 

Were bright in our early years. 
But we wove the tissues Avrong, and stained 

The woof with bitter tears. 



THE CALL. 351 

" We wove a web of doubt and fear — 

Not faith, and hope, and love — 
Because we looked at our work^ and not 

At our Pattern^ up above !" 

PHCEBE GARY. 



THE CALL. 

"And lie cometh, anclfindeth them sleeping-, and saitli unto 
Peter, Simon, slcepest thou ? Couldst thou not watch one hour ?" 
— Makk xiv. 37. 

The night was dark; behold! the shade was 
deeper 
In the old garden of Gethsemane ; 
When that calm voice awoke the weary sleeper : 
" Could'st thou not watch one hour alone 
with me?" 

O thou ! so weary of thy self-denials, 
And so impatient of thy little cross. 

Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials, 

To count all earthly things a gainful loss? 

What if thou always suffer tribulation, 
And if thy Christian warfare never cease? 

The gaining of the quiet habitation 
Shall gather thee to everlasting peace. 

But here, we all must suffer, walking lonely 
The path that Jesus once Himself hath gone ; 

Watch thou in patience, through the dark hour 
only — 
This one dark hour—before the eternal dawn. 



352 THE CAJLL. 

The captive's oar may pause upon the galley, 
The soldier sleep beneath his plumed crest, 

And Peace may fold her wings o'er hill and 
valley ; 
But thou, O Christian, must not take thy rest ! 

Thou must walk on, however man upbraid thee, 
With Him who trod the wine-press all alone ; 

Thou wilt not find one human hand to aid thee, 
One human soul to comprehend thine own. 

Heed not the images for ever thronging 
From out the foregone life thou livest no 
more. 

Faint-hearted mariner! still art thou longing 
For the dim line of the receding shore? 

Wilt thou find rest of soul in thy returning 
To that old path thou hast so vainly trod? 

Hast thou forgotten all thy weary yearning 
To walk among the children of thy God? 

(Tanst thou forget thy Christian superscription, 
"Behold, we count them happy which en- 
dure?" 
What treasure wouldst thou, in the land Egypt- 
ian, 
Kepass the stormy water to secure? 

And wilt thou yield thy sure and glorious prom- 
ise, 

For the poor, fleeting joys earth can afford? 
No hand can take away the treasure from us, 

That rests within the keeping of the Lord. 



THE CALL. 353 

Poor Af^andering soul ! I know that thou art 
seeking 

Some easier way, as all have sought before, 
To silence the reproachful inward speaking — 

Some landward path unto an island shore. 

The cross is heavy in thy human measure, 
The way too narrow for thine inward pride ; 

Thou canst not lay thine intellectual treasure 
At the low footstool of the Crucified. 

Oh ! that thy faithless soul, one great hour only, 
Would comprehend the Christian's perfect 
life; 

Despised with Jesus, sorrowful and lonely. 
Yet calmly looking upward in its strife. 

For poverty, and self-renunciation. 

The Father yielded back a thousand-fold; 

In the calm' stillness of regeneration, 
Cometh a joy we never knew of old. 

In meek obedience to the heavenly Teacher 
Thy weary soul can find its only peace ; 

Seeking no aid from any human creature — 
Looking to God alone for his release. 

And He will come, in His own time and power, 

To set His earnest-hearted children free ; 
Watch only through this dark and painful hour, 
And the bright morning yet will break for 
thee. 

ANXA MATLACK. 



854" UNDER THE CROSS. 



UNDER THE CROSS. 

" FatTier, if tbou be willing, remove this cup from me : never 
theless, not my will, but thine be done."— Luke xsii. 42, 

I CAifNOT, cannot say, 

Out of my bruised and breaking heart, 
Storm-driven along a thorn-set way, 

While blood-drops start 
From every pore, as I drag on, 
''Thy will, oh, God, be done!" 



Of my strange sorrow's fierce baptism. 
Look up to Heaven, with spirit brave — 

With holy chrism, 
And, while this 'whelming rite goes on. 

Murmur, "God's will be done!" 

I am not strong to bear 

This sudden blast of scorching breath, 
Which blossoms hope in dark despair. 

And life, in death ; 
I cannot say, without the sun, 

"My God, thy will be done!" 

I thought, but yesterday. 

My will was one with God's dear will. 
And that it would be sweet to say. 

Whatever ill 
My happy state should smile upon, 

" Thy will, my God, be done!" 



UI!fDER THE CROSS. 355 

But I was weak, and wrong. 

Both weak of soul, and wrong of heart, 
And pride alone in me was strong, 

With cunning art 
To cheat me, in the golden sun 

To say, " God's will be done !" 

O ! shadow drear and cold. 
That frights me out of foolish pride ; 

flood ! that through my bosom rolled 
Its billowy tide ; 

1 said, 'till ye your power made known, 

'' God's will, not mine, be done." 

Now, faint and sore, afraid, 

Under my cross, heavy and rude. 
My idols in the ashes laid. 

Like ashes strewed. 
The holy words, my pale lips shun ; 

" O God, Thy will be done." 

Pity my woes, O God, 

And touch my will with Thy warm breath, 
Put in my trembling hand Thy rod 

That quickens death. 
That my dead faith may feel Thy sun. 

And say, " Thy will be done I" 



AT LAST. 



AT LAST 



" And he said, My presence shall go with thee, and I will [^ire 
thee rest." — Ex. xxsiii. 14. 



"When the work of life is over, 

All the sorrow and the strife, 
And the chill damps from the river 

Gather round the seat of life — 
When our loved ones come around us, 

For the last fond, parting word, 
And the tearful words are spoken. 

And the last farewell is heard — 
All dloiie, down the dark valley, 

Shall I go, my Saviour? " Nay, 
Through the valley and the shadow, 

Lean on me, I'll be thy stay," 
When the waters of the death-stream 

Gather round my sinking form, 
Wilt thou help me? " Through the waters 

I will bear thee safe from harm." 
When I stand before the threshold 

Of the city of our God, 
In the glorious land immortal, 

By the saints and angels trod? 
" I will bid thy spirit welcome, 

Ope the pearly gates for thee. 
And, for ever, and forever, 

In my presence thou shalt be." 

EFFIE JOHNSOX. 



WHEAT-EARS. 357 



WHEAT-EARS. 

" First the blade, then the ear ; after that, the full corn in the 
ear." — Mark iv. 28. 

Look at those green young ears of wheat — 

How haughtily they stand, 
With heads uplifted in the air, 

Like lords of all the land! 

And listen, while before the breeze 

Their pride a moment yields, 
Their little sighs of discontent 

Are heard all down the fields. 

But when their green has changed to gold, 
And their chaff is filled with wheat, 

Their heads will be as humbly bowed 
As the hare-bells at their feet- 

And so, my dear, in life's wheat-field 

How often do I see, 
That certain of the young ears stand 

By far too haughtily. 

But still in patient love I bear 

Their pride, day after day, 
For well I know the time draws near 

When it will pass away. 

In God's good time. His gentle grace 

Like sun, and dew, and rain. 
Will make His green wheat-ears all ripe, 

And full of golden grain. 



558 TEACH ME TO LIVE. 

Full of His Spirit's fruits of love, 
And truth, and righteousness ; 

And then each proud young head will bow, 
In perfect lowliness. 

Yes, dear, it surely must be so. 

In that blessed harvest tide ; 
'Tis only in half-empty souls 

There can be room for pride. 

S. RUaELY POWERS. 



TEACH ME TO LIVE. 

"For in him we live, and move, and have our hemg."— Acts 
xvii. 28. 

Teach me to live ! 'Tis easier far to die — 
Gently and silently to pass away — 

On earth's long night to close the heavy eye, 
And waken in the realms of glorious day. 

Teach me that harder lesson — how to live, 
To serve Thee in the darkest paths of life ; 

Arm me for conflict now — fresh vigor give, 
And make me more than conqueror in the 
strife. 

Teach me to live !— Thy purpose to fulfill : 
Bright for Thy glory let my taper shine ! 

Each day renew, re-mould this stubborn will : 
Closer round Thee my heart's affections twine. 

Teach me live for self and sin no more ; 

But use the time remaining to me yet. 
Not mine own pleasure seeking, as before — 

Wasting no precious hours in vain regret. 



A CHILD'S FAITH, 359 

Teach me to live ! No idler let me be, 

But in Thy service hand and heart employ; 

Prepared to do Thy bidding cheerfully — 
Be this my highest and my holiest joy. 

Teach me to live! — my daily cross to bear; 

Nor murmur though I bend beneath its load. 
Only be with me. Let me feel Thee near: 

Thy smile sheds gladness on the darkest road. 

Teach me to live ! — and find my life in Thee — 
Looking from earth and earthly things away ; 

Let me not falter, but untiringly 
Press on ; and gain new strength and power 
each day. 

Teach me to live ! — with kindly words for all — 
Wearing no cold, repulsive brow of gloom ; 

Waiting, with cheerful patience, till Thy call 
Summons my spirit to her heavenly home. 



A CHILD'S FAITH. 

" Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast d.ovm \ for the 
Lord upholdeth him with his band.'''— Ps. sxsvii. 24. 

A WEAKY mother 

Sat in her chair; 
The hearth was cold. 

And the chamber bare. 
Her thoughts were away 

With a soldier-train : 
*' Where was her husband? 

And was he slain?" 



360 A CHILD'S PRAYER. 

With a heart grown sick 

With its longing sore — 
For months had fled 

Since he left the door — 
Sadly she sewed, 

Till the deepening gloom 
Of the evening shadows 

Had dimmed the room. 

Her children sat 

On the floor together, 
Their mirth had fled 

With the summer weather; 
She marked their forms. 

With a look of care, 
And her heart sank down 

In a dull despair. 

But the postman's rap 

At the door is heard; 
It hath roused the embers 

Of hope deferred : 
Roused, but to flicker; 

A moment's spark, 
A final gleaming 

Ere all grows dark? 

She was now a widow, 

With heartstrings wrung; 
Her babes were orphans. 

And they so young ! 
In her depth of- anguish 

She gave a cry; 
Did it not pierce 

The evening sky — 



A child's prayer. 361 

Till it reached the ear 

Of Infinite Love ; 
Of Him who filleth 

The throne above, 
Who waiteth ever 

To cheer and bless 
The widowed heart, 

And the fatherless? 

The night wore on, 

And her children slept ; 
But the weary mother 

Still worked and wept : 
Grief may not hinder 

Her needle's flight, 
Till the rushlight looseth 

Its flickering light. 

At the midnight hour 

Its flame went out, 
And her room grew dark 

As the skies without ; 
And faint with sorrow 

She sought her rest ; 
And her sleeping babes 

To her bosom pressed. 

Chilly and gloomy 

The morning broke. 
And the hungry children 

From sleep awoke : 
A scanty fire 

Its faint warmth shed, 
As they shared in silence 

Their crust of bread. 



A child's prayer. 

And all day long 

Will that mother sew, 
Through the first deep grief 

Of the widow's woe : 
And her children shiver, 

So poorly clad ; 
Their youthful faces 

Grown wan and sad. 

Can we wonder 

That faith grew dim, 
As cold and hunger 

Looked in so grim? 
For sorrow is strong 

And the flesh is weak; 
And none were near her 

Of hope to speak. 

The tiny fire 

Was almost spent, 
And her landlord came 

For his weekly rent; 
Her spirit faints. 

And her bosom swells, 
As with faltering tongue 

Her tale she tells. 

But he careth not 

For her sore distress ; 
He will not tarry 

His claim to press : 
With a cruel oath, 

He hath left the room, 
Where cold and poverty 

Spread their gloom. 



A child's prayer. 

The tide of grief 

O'er the widow swept ; 
She dropped her sewing, 

And moaned and wept ; 
And the clouds of sorrow 

So veiled the sky, 
She scarce remembered 

The God on high. 

But one of her children, 

Just four years old. 
With her pale face pinched 

With hunger and cold, 
But a sweet soft light 

In her fair blue eye. 
Crept close and whispered, 

"Why do you cry? 

"Mother, dear mother, 

Wm God not heed. 
If we just go teU Him 

AVhat 'tis we need?" 
With a wondering look 

The mother replied, 
"If it is for our good, 

It will be supplied." 

But the baby voice 

Still questioned on — 
" Will it be for our good, 

If our home is gone? 
May I just go and ask. 

If it is God's will. 
That He would give us 

A shelter still?" 



364 A child's prayer. 

The mother said, " Yes," 

With trembling breath, 
For her soul woke up 

At her infant's faith ; 
And by Hope's sweet voice 

Her heart was stirred, 
As the pleading tones 

Of her child she heard. 

" O God! Thou hast taken 

My father away. 
And mother's no money 

Her rent to pay ; 
And we shall be sent 

On the steps to lie, 
And the cold is so bitter 

We all shall die. 

* ' Grant us a dwelling. 

Though ne'er so small : 
O Father in heaven. 

Hear while we call!" 
She paused — then added, 

''Please, O God!" 
And a smile of trust 

On her features glowed. 

With radiant face. 

To her mother's side 
The little one ran, 

And blithely cried, 
" I have been to God, 

And you need not weep ; 
For He will be sure 

His promise to keep. 



A child's prayer. 3o5 

*' He will take care of us 

Now, I know ; 
For something within 

Has told me so." 
And the mother listened 

With throbbing breast, 
As her trustful child 

In her arm she pressed. 

Ah ! not in vain 

Was the cry of faith. 
Of one who believed 

What the Scripture saith. 
That very day 

Was the answer sent ; 
And the stern hard man 

Received his rent. 

In a quiet home 

AVhere love was bright, 
Were some who pitied 

The widow's plight ; 
And a tiny packet 

Of silver store 
Was softly left 

At the widow's door. 

The shades of night 

Drew darkly on, 
But the sickening fear 

From her heart was gone ; 
For faith and hope 

Dispelled the gloom 
From the grateful hearts 

In that humble room. 



366 A child's prater. 

And week by week, 

As it glided by, 
"With ceaseless wants 

Brought a new supply ; 
For the widow's trust 

On her God was stayed. 
In whom the fatherless 

Findeth aid. 

And oftentimes 

At her work she smiled 
Recalling the prayer 

Of her httle child, 
And the simple faith 

To her infant given — 
The faith which opens 

The door of heaven. 

Now, gentle reader. 

This tale is true ; 
Perchance its message 

May comfort you ; 
For God delighteth 

To cheer and bless 
The desolate heart. 

In its sore distress. 

The lions may suffer 

For lack of food, 
But the word of promise 

Shall still hold good : 
God watcheth his own 

With a Father's care, 
And listeneth ever 

His children's prayer. 



A child's prayer. 367 

And the seed once sown 

In an infant's heart, 
To bless the sower 

To hfe shall start, 
And cheer with hope. 

Like summer rain. 
The heart bowed down 

With a weight of pain. 

And those who succor, 

For Jesus's sake. 
The homes of want 

And the hearts that ache. 
Shall receive their measure 

A thousand-fold, 
In the countless treasure 

Of bliss untold! 

And those who trust, 

Where sight is dim, 
To their Father's promise, 

And wait on Him, 
Though ofttimes faith 

Be sorely tried, 
Shall own at last 

" God doth provide." 

And that little child, 

May she never part 
With her early faith 

And her childlike heart ; 
But, believing the record 

Of God's dear Son, 
^Vhile yet on the earth 

Find her heaven begun ! 



368 COME U]?fTO ME. 

A little longer 

To do or bear, 
A little space yet 

For faith and prayer; 
Then the crown and song, 

And the robes of white, 
Where faith is changed 

For the joy of sight! J. L. H. 



COME UNTO ME . 

" Come unto me, all ye tliat labor and are lieavy laden, and 1 
will give you rest." — Matt. xi. 28. 

" Come unto me," the Master says; 

But how? I am not good; 
No thankful song my heart will raise, 

Nor even wish it could. 

I am not sorry for the past. 

Nor able not to sin ; 
The weary strife would ever last 

If I should once begin. 

'' Hast thou no burden, then, to bear? 

No action to repent? 
Is all around so very fair? 

Is thy heart quite content? 

" Hast thou no sickness iii thy soul? 

No labor to endure? 
Then go in peace, for thou art whole ; 

Thou ncodest not His euro. " . 



THE NEGLECTED CALIi. 369 

Ah! mock me not; sometimes I sigh; 

I have a nameless grief, 
A faint, sad pain — but such that I 

Can look for no relief. 

"Come, come to Him who made thy heart; 

Come weary and oppressed; 
To come to Jesus is thy part; 

His part, to give thee rest. 

New grief, new hope He will bestow, 

Thy grief and pain to quell; 
Into thy heart Himself will go. 

And that will make thee well. 

GEORGE MACDOjS^ALD. 



THE NEGLECTED CALL. 

" Whateoever he saith unto you, do it."— John ii. 5. 

When the fields were white with harvest, and 
the laborers were few. 

Heard I thus a voice within me : ' ' Here is work 
for thee to do ; 

Come thou up and help the reapers, I will show 
thee now the way. 

Come and help them bear the burden, and the 
toiling of the day;" 

"For a more convenient season," thus I an- 
swered, "will I wait." 

And the voice reproving, murmured, ' ' Hasten, 
ere it be too late." 
24 



370 THE IfEGLECTED CAIiL. 

Yet I heeded not the utterance, Mstening to lo! 

here — lo! there, 
I lost sight of all the reapers in whose work I 

would not share ; 
Followed after strange devices — bowed my 

heart to gods of stone. 
Till, like Ephraim joined to idols, God well 

nigh left me alone ; 
But the angel of His patience followed in my 

erring track. 
Setting here and there a landmark, wherein 

that to guide me back. 

Onward yet I went, and onward, till there met 
me on the way, 

A poor prodigal returning, who like me was 
gone astray. 

And his faith was strong and earnest that a 
father's house would be 

Safest shelter from temptation, for such sinful 
ones as he. 

"Read the lesson," said the angel; " take the 
warning and repent!" 

But the wily Tempter queried, ' ' Ere thy sub- 
stance be unspent? 

"Hast thou need to toil and labor? Art thou 
fitted for the work ? 

Many a hidden stone to braise thee, in the har- 
vest field doth lurk ; 

There are others called beside thee — and, per- 
chance the voice may be 

But thy own delusive fancy, which thou hear- 
est calling thee. 



THE ]st:glected call. 371 

There is time enough before thee, all thy foot- 
steps to retrace." 

Then I yielded to the Tempter, and the angel 
veiled her face. 

Pleasure beckoned in the distance, and her 

siren song was sweet : 
''Through a thornless path of flowers, gently I 

would guide thy feet ; 
Youth is as a rapid river, gliding noiselessly 

away ; 
Earth is but a pleasant garden, cull its roses 

whilst thou may ; 
Press the juice from purple clusters, fill life's 

chalice with the wine ; 
Taste the fairest fruits which tempt thee ; all 

its richest fruits are thine." 

Ah ! the path was smooth and easy, but a snare 
was set therein, 

And the feet were oft entangled, in the fearful 
mesh of sin. 

And the canker-worm was hidden in the rose- 
leaf folded up, 

And the sparkling wine of pleasure was a fatal 
Circean cup ; 

All its fruits were Dead Sea apples, tempting 
only to the sight, 

Fair, yet filled with dust and ashes; beautiful, 
but touched with blight. 

"Oh, my Father!" cried I, inly, "Thou hast 

striven — I have willed, 
Now the mission of the angel of Thy presence 

isfulfiUed: 



372 THE IfEGLECTED CALL. 

I have tasted earthly pleasures, yet my soul is 
craving food, 

Let the summons Thou hast given to Thy har- 
vest be renewed ; 

I am ready now to labor, wilt Thou call nie once 
again? 

I will join thy willing reapers as they garner 
up the grain." 

But the still small voice within me, earnest in 
its trust, and deep, 

iinswered my awakened conscience, ' ' As thou 
sowest, thou shalt reap. 

God is just; and retribution follows each neg- 
lected call ; 

Thou hadst thy appointed duty taught thee by 
the Lord of all ; 

Thou wert chosen, but another filled the place 
assigned thee ; 

Henceforth, in my field of labor, thou mayst 
but a gleaner be. 

But a work is still before thee — see thou linger 
not again; 

Separate the chaff thou gleanest, beat it from 
among the grain ; 

Follow after these, my reapers, let thine eye be 
on the field, 

Gather up the precious handsful their abun- 
dant wheat-sheaves yield ; 

Go not hence to glean, but tarry from the morn- 
ing until night ; 

Be thou faithful, thou mayst yet find favor in 
thy Master's sight. 

HAXXAH LLOYT). 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 



PAGE 

A dismal sound of beating rain 22a 

After the darkness— light I 173 

After the Christian's tears 272 

A group of dear children, one warm summer day 21T 

Ah, could I do, instead of dream 298 

Ah ! when ye sit by your bright warm fire 303 

A little child I am indeed 235 

"A little while," , 73 

All the day you sit here idle 99 

All things, dear Lord ? Is there no thread of woe 273 

A mother stood by her spinning-wheel 46 

A merry sunbeam in a glen 253 

An old lady sat in her old arm-chair 246 

A ragged girl swept on the avenue crossing 311 

Are wo sowing seeds of kindness ? 72 

Art thou struggling 'midst the darkness, toiling on thy hea^ 

venward way 325 

Aslant fell the beams of the cetting sun 187 

A sower went forth to sow 307 

A swallow in the Spring 5S 

At home or away, in the alley or street 141 

At my leisure I am sitting 126 

A weary mother 859 

A weaver sat one day at his loom 849 

Bear the burden of the. present 847 

Be kind to one another 182 

Be patten';— life is very brief 193 

Beside the church door, aweary and lone 223 

Broadcast thy seed 10 

Bury thy sorrow 174 

Can it be right for me to go 250 

Child of my love. " Lean bard," ltJ7 

(373) 



374 IXDEX TO FIRST LINES. 

Child of the Kingdom, born into Christ I 98 

Cherish kindly feelinejs, children 21 

Christ-like, Christian, let it be 213 

Christian ! walk carefully— danger is near 215 

Come, let us go into the harvest-field 194 

Come stand by my knee, little children 35 

•• Come unto me," the Master says S68 

Could we but see what hidden lies 25 

Darning little stockings 100 

Dear Lord, behold I humbly wait 22 

Debby was such a queer old thing .' 88 

Did I ask for the wings of a dove 333 

Do thy little, do it well liT 

Even so, O Father 1 22i 

Ever so little the seed may be 232 

Father, art thou surely leading ? 343 

Finish thy work— the time is short 233 

From every court and by-way 7G 

From the far-ofi" fields of earthly toil 118 

Give me some work to do I the reapers soon 300 

Give thy strength unto thy servant 9(j 

God's right hand angel, bright and calm 34S 

Go, husbandman, and sow I.. . 82 

Go stand and speak ! for darkness yet prevaileth 253 

Go to Jesus, child of sorrow 126 

Go work in my vineyard 3 

Guide me. Lord, in all I do 121 

Hark I the voice of Jesus crying 156 

Hark I the gentle Shepherd speaking 171 

Hast thou wandered far from the " i*eapers," 207 

Have a tear for the wretched, a smile for the glad 229 

Have ye looked for sheep in the desert 40 

Have you ever been in our mission-school 106 

He took a shaft both strong and straight 163 

" Highways and hedges I" And what do they mean ? 91 

Ho 1 thou traveler on life's highway 334 

How goes the fight with thee 322 

How manifold the ways 80 

Uow many pounds does the baby weigh 149 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. S7S 

I am only a little sparrow 234 

I a:?ked for a guide ; my si;|lit seemed dim 244 

I cannot, cannot say 353 

1 come to Thee to-night 157 

I creep within the crimson cleft . , 301 

I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be 10 

If Jesus came on earth again 74 

If we knew, when walking thoughtless . . 220 

If we knew the woe and heart-ache 17G 

If you are too weak to journey 49 

If you'd be a faithful steward 135 

I gave my lile for thee 280 

I gazed upon the canvas wrought 27 

I go among unloving hearts 30 

I had drank with lip unsated 93 

I have toiled at my work all day, Father 55 

" I have labored in vain," a teacher said 62 

I held a seedling in my hand G9 

I know not what shall befall me, God hangs a mist o'er my 

eyes 279 

I left it all with Jesus 140 

I'm kneeling at the threshold, weary, faint and sore 315 

In a napkin smooth and white 68 

In some way or other the Lord will provide 42 

In the midst of the mighty city 1&3 

In the furrows of thy life 42 

In the silent midnight watches w . . 181 

Into a ward of the whitewashed walls 234 

I passed by a shapeless marble 1 

I said, '• Oh, Guide, go forth 317 

I sat and gazed upon my sunny home 197 

I stood by the Master's vineyard 345 

" Is this the way, my Father ?" " 'Tis, my child " 290 

Is thy cruse of comfort wasting ? rise and share with another. 300 

It is not the gift ostentation bestows 17 

I travei'd once a rocky road 114 

It was a time of sadness and my heart 153 

I thank thee Father, that I live ! 179 

It may be iu ,he evening 285 

I wcpl and s»id, '• These ciumbs cannot be worth " 336 

Judge not ! The workings of his brain 116 

Just as God leads me I would go 85 

Just as the sun rose blushing red 216 



876 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 

Let me not die, before I've done for Thee 292 

Let lis not go stooping, groaning 6 

Lift a little I Lift a little !. 337 

Little foxes spoiling 59 

Little to me it matters 175 

Look at those green young ears of wheat 357 

Lord, a little tired child 61 

Lord, I had planned to do Thee service true 125 

Lord, is it still the right way, though I cannot see Thy face. . 14 
Lost! lost! lost! 33 

Make use of me, my God ! 8 

My heart was sad and weary, because life's toil and care 133 

My little maiden of four years old 265 

" My words are poor and weak," I said, " they pass " 94 

Musing on all my Father's love 268 

Near us they pass, with ever downcast eyes 38 

No answer, Lord ? 241 

'*• Nothing to do I" in this world of ours 239 

" Nothing to do ?" Oh, pause, and look around 13 

Not now,— my child,— a little more rough tossing 226 

Now, the sowing and the weeping 240 

O cease thy wanderings to and fro ! 249 

O heavy hearted I Gazing on the altar 270 

O, not this cross, my Father ! not this cup 260 

O Saviour, whose mercy, severe in its kindness 133 

O, turn, idle wanderer ! pause, careless rover ! 262 

O, tender Shepherd, gather my Lamb 78 

O ! the blessed promise, given on the hills of Galilee 136 

O, Thou, who never tak'st from Thy beloved 206 

O weary, sorrowing soul 128 

O ! who can tell of the soAver's cares 251 

Oh ! for the peace that floweth like a river 117 

Oh 1 Lord, my God ! 'tis early dawn 338 

Oh, toiler in life's vineyard 151 

One week in heaven ! Oh, who can say : 211 

" Only a little brook !"— That swelling sea 203 

Only believe that thy Father 36 

Our light afflictions, which a moment last 296 

Out of the shadows of sadness 190 

Over and over again 77 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 377 

Pain's furnace-heat within mc quivers 12 

Peace, restless soul ! God bids thee not to moiTrn 231 

Pilgrim, wait a little moment 11 

Place the spindle, hold the distaff. '29;^ 

Poor, trembling lamb ! Ah, who outside the fold 59 

Rejoice, my fellow pilgrim, for another stage is o'er 2GT 

Rest is not here, but pain, and toil, and woe 115 

Retrace the months,— what hast thou done 81 

" Say, is your lamp burning, my brotlier ? CS 

" Say, shall I take the th:rn away ?" 328 

Shall this life of mine he wasted ?.. 5 

'* She hath done v/hat she could 1" Oh, how sweet 181 

She left her pitcher at the well, and to her home returned 133 

Shrink not from suffering. Each dear blow 23G 

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee 282 

Slowly had passed the hours of day Ill 

Something for Jesus ! Oh, for His dear sake 22G 

So much to do, and so little time 210 

Souls are perishing before thee 2C5 

Sower divine ! 57 

Sow in the morn thy eeed 291 

Sow ye beside all waters 191 

Spare not Thy rod, O blessed Lord ! 32 

Standing in a corner 842 

Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! 237 

Take courage— 'tis but a little cloud 304 

Teach me to live ! 'Tis easier far to die SoS 

The low tuft of grass is not a stately tree 310 

The Master will look at His trees to-day 18 

The morrow, when it comes, shall know 143 

The night was dark ; behold' ! the shade was deeper 351 

The night comes in, and the storm is wild 1C4 

The past can never be recalled 230 

The record of her life was filled 219 

The Spring hath birds, however late 132 

The time for toil has past, and night has come 323 

The twilight f illeth, the night is near '43 

The waves were dashing loud and high 178 

The way is dark, my Father ! Cloud on cloud 122 

The world is full of suffering : along the mournful air 169 

Thert is always something to cheer us 327 



378 INDEX TO FIRST LIHTES. 

There is mauy a rest in the road of life 53 

There is work for all in the Gospel Field 29 

There remaineth, it is written C5 

There was once a castaway 146 

This life is not all sadness 4 

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow 104 

Thou knowest, O my Saviour dear 143 

Thus Messiah's mandate ran 44 

Thy neighhor ? It is he whom thou 332 

'Tis sweet to work for Jesus 289 

Too long have I, niethought, with tearful eye 238 

Tolling among the vines one day 168 

Two fields for toil, the outer and the inner 330 

Up and away, like the dew of the morning 313 

We all might do good 56 

We are pilgrims bound to the better land 263 

Wearied and worn with earthly cares, I yielded to repose 213 

Weary of life's burden 30S 

We bent to-day o'er a cofiSned form 71 

We daily walk the crowded street 87 

What's the use of always fretting.. 129 

What hast thou done to show thy love 107 

What hast thou done to-day for God ? 302 

What hast thou gle:!ned to day, my soul 840 

What matter, friend, though you and I G4 

Yvliat mean these thrills ? This heavenly calm ?. 209 

What means this eager, anxious throng 320 

When ministering women went 20 

What poor weeping ones were saying 90 

What though before me it is dark 26 

What.tho' the gifts and calling of the Lord IGO 

Whene'er thou bendest silently in fervent thought of word- 
less prayer 52 

When prayer delights thee least, then learn to say 250 

When shall I be at rest ? My trembling heart 319 

When the fields were white with harvest, acd the laborers 

were few 869 

When th3 vv'ork of life is over 856 

When thou hast sown the precious seed 150 

Where hast thou been toiling all day, sweet heart 276 

Who shall Ihc v,-illing witness be 284 

Why drink you still the bitter wine 180 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 379 

Why fear for thy brother ? jgg 

With blue, cold hands, and stockingless feet * " 195 

Working, O Christ, with Thee 2m 

Would you live your whole life over !..'.'!!.. 1G6 

Ye workers in God's vinej-ard 228 



INDEX. 



A Child's faith 359 

AField 106 

A German Trust Song 85 

A Little While 73 

A Lesson 87 

A plea for Home Missions 76 

A Seed 69 

Astray Lamb 78 

A Stormy Night 224 

A Working Woman's morning thoughts 30 

A Vision Ill 

Abiding with God 98 

After the darkness, light 173 

Afterwards 240 

An Early Missionary 130 

An Evening Prayer 157 

And to every man, his work 310 

As one whom his Mother comforteth 61 

^\ Fsurance in Christ 256 

As Thou wilt 222 

At Last 350 

Bear yo one another's burdens 11 

Be kind to one another 182 

Behold, Thou art there 153 

Be still, and know that I am God 249 

Be faithful 345 

Bear the burden of the present 347 

Blessed is the man whom Thou chasteneth 138 

Broadcast thy seed 10 

Bread on the Waters 336 

Bury thy sorrow 174 

By the gate 210 

Casting all on Jesus 140 

Cherish kindly feelings 21 

(380) 



INDEX. 381 

Christ's Sympathy 74 

Christ-like 212 

Christian submission 333 

Could we but know 2."> 

Conflict - 2(50 

Covenant love 273 

Coming 2S5 

Come unto Me 388 

Dcbby Ware 88 

Death 190 

Dorcas — a Disciple 20 

Drawing Water 83 

Father, take my hand 122 

Finish thy work— then rest , 233 

Feed my Lambs 171 

Forward 5 

For the children 35 

" Follow thou Me " 40 

Get thy spindle and thy distafT ready 293 

Give thy strength unto thy servant 0<5 

Give me some work to do 300 

Go work to-day 29 

Go ye into all the world 41 

God's ways 80 

Go forth and reap 150 

God's taking 206 

God's Anvil 12 

Grandmother 216 

Guide me, Lord 121 

Have faith, and struggle on . 58 

Harvest 194 

Harvest home 201 

He knoweth all 43 

He answered her not a word 241 

Highways and Hedges 91 

Hope 251 

Hold the Light 834 

I have nothing to give IS;") 



382 IXDEX. 

If we knew HG 

If we knew 220 

In the silent midnight watches ISl 

In the morning sow thy seed S2 

Is this the way ? SJ3 

Is your Lamp burning ? 68 

Jesus is mine , 209 

Jesus of Nazareth passeth by 320 

Judge not 116 

Kneeling at the tlireshold 315 

Larvae 265 

Leaves only 18 

Lean hard 167 

Little Barbara's hymn 46 

Living by the moment 143 

Life tapestry 238 

Lift a little 337 

Love for Jesus 217 

Longings 319 

Making others happy 253 

My Cry 55 

My Mother's hands 237 

My Guide 243 

New Year retrospect 84 

Never mind 129 

Nothing to do ? 13 

Not in vain 02 

Not as our v/ays 132 

Not now ". - 226 

Nothing to do 239 

Not knowing 279 

O Lord, Thou knowcst 104 

Ofleriugs 125 

Oh turn, idle wanderer 202 

One body in Christ 160 

One step more 26 

One week in Heaven 211 



i^DEX. 383 

Only believe , . . . 8G 

" Only a little Brook " 203 

Our burden-bearer 

Our pattern 349 

Out in tbe cold 195 

Over and over again , 77 

Per pacem ad lucem 10 

Prayer and potatoes 24() 

Prayer 250 

Eest C5 

Rest 151 

Eegret not 230 

Eejoice, my fellow-pilgrim 207 

Eemember tbe poor 303 

Return unto tby rest, O my soul , 12S 

Kipe Wbeat 71 

Rod and Staff 32 

Save one 205 

Scatter Seed 42 

Sent of God 114 

Self-Examination 302 

She bath done what she could 184 

Sowing 72 

Sowing in hope 04 

Some mother's child Ml 

Somebody's darling 234 

Something for Jccus S2(> 

" Son, go work in my Vineyard " 3 

Submission 26S 

Submission 2S2 

Submission 348 

Sweet rest to come 22S 

Sympathy 220 

Tell Jesus 128 

Teach me to live 358 

The Burden-bearer 130 

The Castaway 14G 

The Changed Cross 15o 

The Call 351 



384 iiq^DEX. 

The Christian's Conflict 322 

The Call to Gospel service 258 

The Christian's Walk 275 

The Child on the Judgment-seat 270 

The Cross, before the Crown 293 

The Cruse that faileth not 8C6 

The Crossing Sweeper 311 

The Day laborer 191 

The Efficacy of Faith 178 

TlieEnd IGG 

The Everlasting^ Memorial 313 

The Full surrender 270 

The Golden side £3 

The Gracious Answer 123 

The Guiding hand 290 

The Heavenly sowing 57 

The harvest home 118 

The Happiest life 133 

The Household Saint 219 

The Heavenly Sculptor 236 

The Little cleft 301 

The Little Cloud 304 

" The Lord will provide " 24 

The Lost day 83 

The ^' Little while " 117 

The Lord hear thee 52 

The Lost child 1C4 

The Master's Workman 1 

The Missionary 281 

The Neglected Call '.. 3G9 

The Poor yc have always with you 38 

The Preacher 1G3 

The prayer of the Invalid 231 

The Purest Pearl 223 

The Kight Way 14 

The Seed and the Sowera 232 

The Sower 307 

The Starless Crown 213 

The Sufferer cheered 328 

The Teacher's Dream 187 

The Time for toil is past 323 

The TTnprolitablc Servant C6 

The value of a little 147 



INDEX. 385 

The Visionary 298 

The V/ayside Watcher .'...• 99 

The Way SIT 

The Web of Life l-2r, 

This life is not fill sadness 4 

This 1 did for thee !2^r» 

Thine IT^ 

Tliro jgh Earth to Ilcavcu '2(i.-'. 

'Tis good to live ITO 

Transmitted fault^f 59 

Trials of the World 161> 

Trust S^'> 

Two I'ainting'j 2T 

Use me S 

Useful according to God's will 292 

Under the Cross o~yi 

Vineyard Laborers lf'8 

Watch thou in all things 193 

Walking in ^vhite ;338 

Waiting 345 

We all might do good 5(5 

Weighing the Baby 149 

Weary 308 

Weaving 34'i 

What is Charity ? 17 

What wilt thou have mc do ? 21 

What Matter ? C4 

What need of Thee ? 143 

What a child may do 23.") 

What tl'.c Sparrow chirps 254 

What then ? Ti2 

What ha-^t thou gleaned to-day ? 340 

What hast thou done •:* lOT 

Wheat-Ears 357 

Where hast thou gleaned to-day ? 2<"'7 

Wliy dost thou Avait ? 50 

\Vho is thy neighbor ? 33-2 

Who shall roll away the stone ? 90 

Yv'here is Rest ? 115 

Why drink yoa ? ISO 



38 6 IXDEX. 

Why fear lor tliy brother ? 1S5 

Why stand ye here 330 

Woman's Work 101) 

Working for Jesus 289 

Working with Thee 297 

^";oras of Cheer 327 

'■ Ye did it not to me " 107 

Your Mission 40 

Your Mission 15G 



nnt f t rn t mi 








